


Fate of Frailty: Recurrence

by Karen_Hart



Category: Xenosaga
Genre: Origin Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 40,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karen_Hart/pseuds/Karen_Hart
Summary: A massive rewrite of an old fanfiction, wherein we see the events that led up to the creation of the Kukai Foundation as we know it today.
Kudos: 4





	1. Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been bouncing around in my head for years but I only started writing it out in September of 2019. That said, this story has nothing to do with the events of 2020.
> 
> I dislike giving pairings because why spoil the surprise?
> 
> While there is a small amount of violence in this fanfic, hopefully it's not enough to be truly unsettling.

**Fate** **of Frailty: Recurrence**

By Karen Hart

* * *

**Chapter 1: Rescue**

_Soft._ It was Mary's first thought as her mind made the ascent into consciousness. _Sore_ was the next. She cracked her eyes open, knowing before she did that this was most definitely not her little cubbyhole of a room. The bed was too soft. The constant, overwhelming feeling of dread was no longer present either, though it was replaced with something almost as daunting. Also, it _felt_ bigger somehow.

She was right on the third count, she realized, once her eyes had adjusted to the light. It was bigger than the room she'd shared with her sister. . . . Her sister! She scanned the room frantically before her gaze finally landed on a slender, violet-haired figure. So she was here, too. She dropped back, relieved. Shelley had always been the one true constant in her life.

As she fell back, she felt an uncomfortably familiar pricking on the underside of her left wrist: an IV drip. Yet it was different from the sort she was used to; whoever had done it had made an effort to make it as painless as possible. _Where are we._ . . ? The question rang in her young mind like an alarm as she tried to recall the last time she'd been awake.

_It had been during her first injection of the day, just after her meal. There'd been the familiar pinprick against her arm, chemicals flooding her bloodstream, when someone had burst into the room, panic-stricken. She hadn't looked at whom it was, only registering the voice as male. He said something about how "they" were coming, and they'd better do something or they'd face prison or worse._

_"This is what we get for not moving when we had the chance. --All right, start breaking everything down. If it can be replaced, destroy it. Hide or camouflage what can't. We know the drill, we should be able to pull this off. We'll have to dispose of the test subjects. We can find more later. Right now we can't risk them getting free._ _I want you to handle that. I'll deal with this one. Now get moving." The "doctor" who'd been holding her still (unnecessary, since she'd been too weak and obedient to attempt escape) abruptly released his grip._ _A moment later he jerked her hands behind her back and bound her wrists together with packing flex before essentially flinging her over his shoulder and leaving the room._

_As he carried her from room to staircase to hallway she saw, from her awkward perch, people scurrying about, emptying cabinets, wiping data files. She had only the haziest understanding what she was seeing. Five years in captivity had taught her not to ask questions. Her position was starting to make her neck and shoulders ache, and there was an unpleasant chemical smell coming from the area ahead. She'd never been taken this way before._ _There were screams behind her;_ _a loud crack and_ _a muffled sob punctuated the chaos. He shoved_ _a door open and dropped her like_ _a sack on the floor, then started turning_ _a heavy wheel on the outside of_ _a round steel door. It swung open._

_It would be years before she realized how_ _lucky she'd been when the room's door was slammed open again, people in what she'd later known was body armor and carrying rifles pouring in. "H-R-E-A!" they shouted, though it was meaningless at the time. She remembered_ _a gentle hand on her_ arm, _not on one of her bruises, then the flex falling away from her wrists. "You're going to be okay. Just sit here. It's going to be all right."_

She shook her head to clear it. That was all she could remember, and a worried frown creased her face as she looked around the room. She shrank back against the bed. _I still don't know where we are._

* * *

Lieutenant General Helmer looked from the woman standing next to him to the woman on the screen. The former was Dr. Miranda Chiall, chief administrator for the Mitrei 4th District Medical Center. The latter was Human Rights Enforcement Agency Director Asia Kulik. Both of them wore a look of fatigue, unsatisfactory accomplishment, and frustration. They'd been glad to shut down a drug experimentation and distribution ring, but two HREA agents had been killed, and some of the tests subjects who'd been rescued had died en route to the hospital.

"I know I ought to be pleased by the results of today's operation, but. . . ." Director Kulik trailed off, her hands coming into view as she spread her fingers in a gesture of distress. "It's all well and good to say putting these dregs of society out of commission is worth any price, but in practice it's a very different story. Still, I'm glad they won't be around any longer."

Helmer wasn't entirely sure about that; history was rife with people who had bought or blackmailed their way to freedom. The people behind Chemtrack, the company created as a cover for the illegal drug experiments, might have either deep pockets or damning records.

Inwardly he shook off his cynical thoughts. "How are the survivors doing?" he asked Dr. Chiall, who frowned and looked at the connection gear in her left hand. She was at the end of an eighteen hour shift. "All of them are suffering from malnutrition, chemical shock, physical abuse and deep psychological trauma. One is too disoriented to know where he is. We have him under sedation. The healthiest, and I use that word reluctantly, are a pair of sisters aged ten and eight."

Helmer's eyes darkened in calculation for a moment. Both women caught the expression. "Just what are you planning, Lieutenant General?" Dr. Chiall demanded.

"If we can get their testimony, the chances of these people slipping through the legal system will drop significantly," Helmer replied.

On the communications screen Director Kulik nodded. "I'd hate to see them escape justice after the effort we took to shut them down."

"When I said they were the healthiest of the lot, I didn't mean that they were actually _healthy,"_ the doctor snapped. "I'm not even sure how they've survived any of this."

"Listen--" a new voice spoke up. Helmer and Dr. Chiall turned to look at the red-haired boy seated on the couch. He put his book down and moved where Director Kulik could see him as well. Both doctor and director had wondered why Helmer had brought him, then eventually forgot about his presence as the meeting went on. "Helmer's got the right idea. People need to hear these girls. But I'll talk to them. I'll be a lot less intimidating than either of you," he said, looking at Helmer and Dr. Chiall. "And we don't need to rush them, either."

Dr. Chiall sighed. "All right. See if you can convince them. But wait until tomorrow."


	2. First Meeting

**Chapter 2: First Meeting**

The next morning Mary had another look at the room she and her older sister were in. With Shelley awake she felt much less frightened.

The room was not quite square. There was a large window in the middle of the wall to her right, from which she could see overcast sky and tree branches. A slim metal chair sat under the window. Cabinets and a small sink lined the wall across from her. Shelley's bed was against the same wall hers was, with a door between them. Mary thought that probably lead to a bathroom. Beside each bed was a rack of monitoring equipment. The wall on her left also had a door, and several posters and diagrams, not all of them medical.

"Do you think we're going to be okay, Shelley?" Mary tried not to sound as nervous as she felt.

Shelley looked up from the meal she couldn't put much interest into. "I think so," she said uncertainly. "I _hope_ so." At this they both fell silent, thinking about their current situation. They'd received kinder treatment than they'd ever remembered having before, but it might not last. A knock sounded. They looked at each other, curious.

"Can I come in?" a muffled voice asked from the other side of the door. "Yes," Shelley replied after a brief hesitation. The door slid open, and a boy with the reddest hair they had ever seen stepped inside.  
"Name's Rubedo," he said by way of introduction.

"I'm Mary--" she introduced herself, "--and I'm Shelley," her sister finished.

"Nice to meet you," Rubedo said, and smiled. He let out a small sigh when the expression wasn't returned and decided to get right to the point. "We need your help."

"Ours?" Mary looked confused.

"Right. We need you to testify--I mean, we need you to tell people about what's been happening to you." Two blank faces stared back at him. "Like in court, but I don't think you'll actually need to be in a courtroom."

Shelley's brow furrowed. "Won't we get in trouble?" Telling anyone anything could lead to serious problems, and often had.

"Nah, you're in the right here." Rubedo crossed the room, spun the chair around to face them and sat down cross-legged with his sneakers on the seat. "We really, really want the people who hurt you to go away forever, but that'll be much easier if you talk about what they did to you."

"Why would anyone care?" Shelley asked.

Rubedo looked back at her, shocked. " _Why_. . . ? What kind of question is that? You bet people'd care. Don't you realize what they did to you was wrong? Holding you prisoner, injecting drugs into you. . . . I don't even want to imagine what else they did." He gave himself a shake as if to dislodge the images in his mind. Shelley looked troubled by the outburst.

"You're a kid," Mary said in the lengthening silence. When the others turned to look at her she continued, "But you talk like a grown-up. How come you know about things like courts and tesfy-- _okay, tes-ti-fy-ing_ \--and . . . and stuff?"

Rubedo drew himself in as straight a posture as he could manage, and said in a solemn tone, "I'm a very short adult."

They giggled at this, the first sign of humor they'd displayed, and the tension in the room dissolved. A look passed between Mary and Shelley, and a nod. "All right. We'll do it," Shelley agreed. "But what is it we actually have to do?"

* * *

"Well, we know their names are Shelley and Mary Godwin. We know they're half sisters. We know their ages. We know they're life-recycling victims. We have their genetic backgrounds on record--for future reference. We don't know much else." Dr. Chiall grimaced. They were in her office, with the door closed.

Helmer looked at her. "But shouldn't their parents' DNA also be on file?" It was fairly standard practice; family members who'd been separated could be reunited even if contact information was lost or location was unknown by matching genetic samples. They were hoping to reunite the girls with their own family.

"They should be, but there are no matches close enough for immediate family, or even extended. And looking for their family by name is difficult because Godwin is such a popular name. At least, we think their name is Godwin. It could be any of a hundred variations. I have a terrible feeling they're from the Kappa region." That got a look from Helmer. More than four years ago the imaginary machine cluster that handled all data traffic for the region had crashed. The twin demons of bribery and corruption had done their work, and the materials used to make the actual hardware had been far below code. More than two thousand five hundred planets had been affected. Some of them were still having trouble to this day.

There was something else Dr. Chiall had said, Helmer remembered. "You said they were life-recycling victims?"

Dr. Chiall sighed. "An interlink, right into the brainstem. And impossible to remove without damaging their central nervous systems."

Helmer leaned back in his chair. "I know you're wondering if I'm about to suggest using that as evidence. I'm not; those girls have gone through enough already. The good news is that we've got their testimony now. It'll be much harder for Chemtrack to plead not guilty. There's still the possibility of them trying to buy their way out, but that's less likely now. After what those girls told us, and the physical evidence, nobody's going to want to be even remotely connected to them."

"Actually," Dr. Chiall smiled, "the good news is that the people who were saved are on their way to a complete recovery. --About the girls, if we can't find their family, what will happen to them? Will they go into the foster system?"

It was Helmer's turn to smile. "I might have an idea about that."

* * *

"What's going to happen to us?" Mary asked Rubedo as she looked up from the toy dragon whose wings she'd been fluffing out.

He was glad Mary was talking to him again. They hadn't objected to the blood tests and recording of their injuries, though they'd glared very pointedly at him when the subject came up: he'd forgotten to mention that part.

He turned his attention back to her question. "Well, we're trying to find out who your family is by checking for a DNA match, but we're not having much luck. Normally, if nobody can find a match, you'd end up in a government-run foster system, but--"

"Normally?"

Rubedo was pleased; she'd caught the qualifier. "Actually--" here he took a deep breath "--we were kinda hoping you'd like to stay with us. Me and Helmer, I mean." Both girls had taken a shine to the soldier. "And my brother Gaignun." 

"Live with you? Shelley and me?" Mary looked dazed.

"Yup. You and Shelley and me and Helmer and Gaignun."

It didn't take more than a few seconds for Mary to decide. "Yes!"


	3. Homecoming

**Chapter 3: Homecoming**

The Godwin sisters picked idly at the canvas tote bags on their beds. In the few days they'd been at the hospital they'd shown marked improvement. While a few of the doctors were hesitant to discharge the girls from their care, it was agreed that they'd do as well or better in a home environment. So now they were dressed in casual clothes, waiting for Rubedo and Helmer to take them to their new residence.

"Finally!" Mary slid off the bed, not quite yet able to jump down, and grabbed her bag as Rubedo stepped through the doorway. She nearly ran the boy down in her eagerness to get going.

He grabbed her arms to halt her progress. "Whoa, slow down. We still have things to do before we leave."

Shelley hadn't moved from her bed. "Like what?"

"Well, okay, _Helmer_ has things to do. Mostly it's signing release forms and arranging guardianship papers, stuff like that. After he's done with that, there'll be an orderly escorting us to the entrance, both to make sure you're okay on the way out and to make sure we're not dragging you off against your will. But he shouldn't take too much longer."

They passed through the front entrance of the Mitrei 4th District Medical Center an hour later.

* * *

There was an image of a beautifully carved wooden fish on the Net screen, a work of true craftsmanship. It had been there for five minutes. Gaignun barely saw it.

He'd been Nigredo until a few months back, before the name became an unbearable reminder of the duty he'd been given. So he'd named himself after the cat he and his brother--brothers--had owned, one of the only true examples of unconditional innocence he'd known in his short life, hoping to bury the memory of that duty.

_We're on our way back_ , came Rubedo's telepathic message. _And there're more of us than we started with._ An image floated into Gaignun's mind of two painfully thin but smiling girls, one a blue-eyed blonde, the other with violet hair and eyes. "Can't resist rescuing strays?" he asked both in his mind and of the air in front of him. Rubedo's answer was a rude snort.

Gaignun cleared the UMN search he'd been doing to pass the time and instead put in the code for a local restaurant that delivered. The hospital was only a couple of districts away so the others would be back soon. Hopefully the food would arrive around the same time.

He pushed himself out of his seat and started to pace. Now that Rubedo was on his way back, he was starting to give in to the worry he'd held off for so long. He wasn't used to being apart from his older brother for more than a few hours, much less days, and Rubedo had been gone for almost a week. Being telepathic did help, but it wasn't the same as having Rubedo there. 

The sudden anticipation made him wary. Still, he couldn't have gone with them given the situation.

* * *

Three weeks ago Gaignun had been exploring the streets of Mitrei, getting a feel for the layout of his new home city. Late in the afternoon--closer to early evening--he'd come across a bit of a setback, that being the Lexam Plaza blocked off for maintenance. Work trucks were in evidence, while orange-coveralled workers moved with purpose. Normally he'd cut across the Plaza and thereby shorten his route home, but now it was apparent he'd have to use another route; clearly the work wouldn't be finished any time that day.

It'd been getting late. Admittedly, he could have caught a transport, but Gaignun liked to walk. He'd looked around and spotted the long barrier that prevented access to the newly built and unoccupied 6th District. If he could manage to hop over the barricade, follow it for a few blocks, and then go back across, he'd be much closer to home. He'd been over in a matter of minutes.

All was going according to plan when he'd noticed light out of the corner of his left eye, where no light should have been. The area was supposed to be unoccupied and the power grid was still off. So he'd decided to take a closer look.

The light came from a large truck parked in an alley, its back to Gaignun. The driver's side door was open. A door opened a few feet away and a man came out with a box which he'd heaved towards the passenger's side. He'd begun to pull himself up to the driver's seat when Gaignun called out to him softly. He'd whirled and pulled out a pistol. 

" **You don't want to do that** ," Gaignun had said with the special tone he could use to hypnotize people and moments later the pistol had fallen from the man's slackened grip. " **What are you doing here**?" The man said he was there on pickup duty and would be bringing the newly-made product to the buyer. Gaignun asked a few more questions and soon knew everything the man did about what went on behind that door. " **Which direction were you going in**?" The man pointed. " **Then go to the end of the road and wait**."

Gaignun had then followed the truck on foot, making a call to Helmer on his UMN phone along the way. Soon after, he and Helmer'd decided to have the man make an anonymous call to the police, after which the whole incident would be erased from his mind. Thus the raid had been organized.

* * *

Gaignun's mind came back to the present when he heard a transport pass by. They were reasonably sure the man he'd met wouldn't recognize him, but they weren't certain, and if he did then the potentially unethical use of hypnosis might come out and ruin all their chances to put the group in prison. So Gaignun had stayed at home.

There was the sound of another transport approaching. As he listened to it slow to a stop he looked at the security feed and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Rubedo emerge.

They were back.


	4. Uneasy Youth

**Chapter 4: Uneasy Youth**

Mary yawned as she shuffled into the kitchen, still bleary-eyed with sleep. "Morning," she mumbled to Gaignun and her sister, both of whom were already wide awake. "Good morning," they said back to her, and there was a smile on Shelley's face. In the two months they'd been living with Rubedo's family Mary was glad to notice that it'd been showing up more and more often. She liked seeing Shelley smile, and her own face mirrored the expression.

Both girls had been surprised when they'd first met Gaignun. Apart from a difference in coloring (black-haired and green-eyed instead of red-haired and blue-eyed), and being several centimeters taller, he was physically identical to Rubedo. However, the girls soon realized that personality-wise they were two very different boys.

"Rubedo's not up yet?" she said with some surprise. Usually it was hard for him to stay asleep.

Shelley shook her head. "He snuck out a little while ago, I think."

"I see. . . ." Mary's voice trailed off slowly. _I wonder if he's okay. . . ._

* * *

_Damn it, it's cold_ , Rubedo thought bitterly as he drew his jacket tighter against his small frame, thankful that he'd remembered it at all in his haste to leave the house. He slumped down against the wall of the cul de sac that had been his destination, running his hands through his unkempt hair, and managed to shudder and sigh simultaneously. "Damn it," he hissed aloud, glad no one was there to see him.

They'd probably tell him not to swear.

Rubedo pulled his knees up against his chest, wrapping thin arms around them. Nightmares again. He could still see the other's lips twisting in horror, those violet eyes widening in shock and betrayal. And he could never unhear the screaming, the pleading. Then the screams distorted into a mindsplitting wail and it seemed like the whole universe began to bleed. He'd forced himself awake when he realized what was going on, knowing what was about to take place and wanting no part of it, even if he _was_ part of it.

He shook his head. He did _not_ want to think about this.

_But that's why you came here, isn't it?_ a little voice nagged from inside. _To hide from your mistakes._

He glanced at his surroundings. He had chosen this place for a reason. It was little more than a parking area for delivery vehicles, all gray concrete, faded parking stripes and oil stains. But it was as solitary and impersonal a place as he could find, a place that offered no colors or reflective surfaces to bring his paler twin--or his brief contact with U-DO--to mind.

Of course, he didn't need any of that when he had himself. He sighed and tried not to hear either the phantom beating in the right side of his chest or the silence in his mind that he was too afraid to break.

_My fault. All mine._ He thought of the vision he'd seen when they'd all formed the link, Miltia cracking open like an egg. Horror had ripped through him as he realized what their actions would bring about. _It wasn't supposed to happen like that. They weren't. . . . He wasn't. . . ._ Once more that face flashed into his mind, Albedo's face twisted by shock and abandonment and a terrible violation.

So much for hiding. He knew the truth about himself, the truth he suspected he'd never be able to speak: that he'd put his life and safety over everyone else's, even his twin's. _Coward_ , he thought.

Tears dripped down his chin, and his throat tightened painfully. He started taking ragged breaths to hold back the sobs. He didn't want anyone to hear, he didn't want anyone to see. For several minutes he stayed like that until the convulsions finally died down.

Rubedo scowled at himself; fourteen was much too old to be crying. _Just don't . . . don't think about it._ Calm breaths. Deep ones. He pulled himself together.

A gentle touch at the edge of his mind interrupted his thoughts, light and unobtrusive. _Better?_ Nigredo asked quietly. No, not Nigredo--he was Gaignun now, though he still hadn't told Rubedo the reason for the change.

_A little. . . ._

_Come back when you're ready._ Then Gaignun's voice faded, though the touch did not.

* * *

Peering around a glass of milk, Mary watched as Gaignun stared intently out the kitchen window, though she couldn't tell what he was looking at. She swiveled in her chair slightly, trying to see what had caught the dark-haired teen's attention, but saw nothing except the side yard and a few flowering bushes. She raised one small eyebrow, though he seemed not to notice. Eventually he turned back around.

"He should be back soon."


	5. Steady Push

**Chapter 5: Steady Push**

Mary kicked the air, her legs too short to reach the floor. She tried to feel reassured by Gaignun's words, though she was having trouble. Rubedo sneaking off wasn't normal, and she worried. She liked Rubedo. He was nice. Hoping he was okay, she turned her attention to the breakfast pastry on her plate.

There was the _hiss-thunk_ of the front door opening and muffled sounds of someone tossing a jacket on the rack by the door, then cursing when it fell back down. Rubedo appeared in the doorway. "I'm back," he said, strangely nervous. Mary studied his face. It was smudged and it looked like his eyes were red from crying, but he seemed to be okay now. Finally she decided not to ask where he'd been; he obviously didn't want to talk about it. If he noticed her scrutiny he didn't say anything, and simply made his way through the fridge and cupboards.

He returned with a small mountain of packaged edibles: none of them were any good at cooking, so they often made do with ready-made food. As he began eating Mary wondered how he could pack so much away. She was having enough trouble with her pastry.

Well, maybe not that much trouble. She reached for a dried papaya spear.

Shelley put her fork down and looked up. "We're supposed to begin classes today, right?" Mary grimaced.

Gaignun nodded. "That's right." He'd almost forgotten about that. "Once Rubedo's finished eating everything in the house we can get you set up."

* * *

It had started a week ago.

Gaignun had been sitting at the computer, seemingly transfixed, his green eyes focused on the screen. The girls had wondered what it was he found so fascinating and wandered over. They'd peered over his shoulder, puzzling over the screen's image: row after row of humped or angular symbols, often squished together, with periodic blank spaces.

He'd stiffened in surprise when he noticed their proximity. Then he'd smiled. "Just something I'm reading for sociology--basically it's about advances in Realian development in the last decade and the way they've affected modern culture." They'd nodded in complete incomprehension. "It's actually pretty interesting, like this part here." He'd pointed to a series of symbols near the top of the screen, only to receive a pair of blank, slightly confused stares.

There'd been silence as Gaignun absorbed the meaning behind their reaction, his thoughts trying to wrap themselves around the conclusion they came to. "Wait--you mean. . . . You can't--neither of you know how to read?" For once the eloquence that came so naturally had failed him. The thought of illiteracy was a troubling one, and judging from Rubedo's mental twitch it was obvious that he too had been unsettled. Gaignun hadn't needed to look around to know his brother had put his book down to listen.

Shelley'd shaken her head no. "They never taught us." Mary'd kept silent, letting her sister do the talking. "I think maybe they didn't want us knowing what they were using on us."

The brothers had been silent at that, wondering just how long Mary and Shelley had been held captive.

"Hey, Gaignun," Rubedo'd spoken up before the silence could become uncomfortable. "Are there any openings for beginners' courses on the UMN?" Gaignun had taken a moment to check, and confirmed. "Why don't we just enroll 'em? It shouldn't take too long."

"Enroll us? What's that mean?" Mary had asked.

"Oh. Sorry. Okay, it's like this," Rubedo'd explained. "You can get schooling through the UMN, or you can go to a regular school. Depending on the situation you can mix the two, taking, say, math courses at home and science or reading at a school. Gaignun and I've been taking most of our courses over the UMN, though there are some physics- and chem-lab experiments that look pretty fun." He'd realized he'd been getting sidetracked. "Anyway, beginners' courses teach you how to read--among other stuff." To Mary and Shelley he'd suddenly sounded far older than the twelve years he looked. "Giving it a shot wouldn't hurt."

The girls had found no reason to disagree.

* * *

Half an hour after breakfast the girls were seated in front of the computer, faces simultaneously eager and apprehensive. Gaignun tapped something out on the touchpad and a moment later a young, pleasant-faced woman appeared on the screen. "Welcome to the Second Miltia branch of the Unus Mundus Educational Network. Shelley Godwin and Mary Godwin, correct?" They nodded quickly. "My name is Dell Mara, and I'll be assisting you with reading and touchpad usage. Shall we begin?" Dell continued her explanation, Shelley and Mary hanging on to her every word.

Rubedo and Gaignun could already tell this was going to be a success.

* * *

Helmer, now Representative of the Second Miltian Parliament, tossed the flimsy on his desk in disgust.  
Since the Conflict, the U-TIC Organization's influence had waned considerably--in theory at least. Publicly they were _negotium non grata_ with the rest of the inhabited universe, yet even before taking his new office Helmer's spies had reported increased output in mines on several suspected U-TIC affiliated planets. He had a suspicion the materials were being used to construct new warships, though at the moment he had no proof. If this continued. . . .

He stood up and walked over to the window. The view was magnificent, but he barely saw it, his dark face set in a thoughtful scowl. At the moment there was nothing the Galaxy Federation could do to stop them; mining was not an illegal activity, after all. Until they started equipping themselves with new military-grade hardware U-TIC was all but untouchable. Not to mention the fact that the Federation had its hands full trying to come up with some way to deal with the Gnosis.

U-TIC was all but untouchable.

Helmer thought about that, then went back to his desk. An hour and a few calls later a file on a man who didn't exist sat on his computer.

* * *

Three hours later the girls took a break, already feeling drained.

Mary expelled a loud breath. "What were we thinking? I had no idea learning about letters and numbers and . . . and stuff . . . could be so. . . ." her voice trailed off, and she threw her arms out in frustration.

"Exhausting?" Shelley offered.

Mary thought the word over, and nodded. "That'll do!" She had no idea sitting in front of a screen and pressing buttons could take so much energy. "So tired," she mumbled, blue eyes closing.

Shelley nudged her. "Don't fall asleep. We still have another three hours to go."

Mary groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Negotium non grata_ might not be precisely correct but it was the best I could find for " _persona non grata_ for an organization."


	6. Progress of Time

**Chapter 6: Progress of Time**

_Crash!_

The sound was preceded by a startled yelp and followed by a pained moan. Rubedo sighed and got up, putting down the Louis L'Amour story he'd been reading. _God I hope she didn't hurt herself_ , he grumbled to himself and headed for the back door.

Sure enough, Mary was under the big tree in the backyard, hissing against the pain of scrapes and bruises she'd no doubt obtained by falling. "Here, let me take a look," he said comfortingly, and knelt down beside her. There were bloody patches of abraded flesh on her knees and palms, mixed with dirt, but nothing that looked truly serious. And she wasn't crying, he noticed. If she _had_ broken something he was quite certain she'd be wailing at the top of her lungs. He smiled. "Come on, let's get that cleaned up." She nodded and let him help her the short distance back to the house, wincing with every step.

Rubedo grinned as he tended the small blonde's wounds. "So how far up did you get?"

"Not very," Mary grumbled, looking down in embarrassment. Bad enough she had to fall, worse still for him to know she hadn't made much progress in the climb.

"Eh, you'll get pretty high eventually," he assured her.

In the two years he'd known her Mary had grown bright and adventurous, willing to explore and try new things. It was rather nice to watch what had once been a scrawny, uncertain little girl grow a sense of confidence. He placed the final bandage on her right knee. "There." She hopped down off the edge of the sink.

"Thanks," she said. Rubedo just grinned at her.

"So which branch did you slip on?" he asked teasingly.

"Come on, I'll show you," she huffed, and led him back outside.

Mary pointed at the branch in question--not a true branch, but the top portion of a much younger tree that'd taken root against the older tree's trunk. It had clearly suffered far more than Mary--several of its thin branches were shorn off. She winced when she saw that. Rubedo raised an eyebrow. "At least you didn't have far to fall. Why didn't you go for that branch?" he asked, pointing at a much sturdier limb.

"I _was_ ," she replied, her peculiar accent emphasizing her annoyance. "I thought I could put my foot on that little tree and get a better grip. I think this tree is cursed." So saying, she aimed a kick at it, yelping when the motion jarred her sore knee.

At that point Rubedo could no longer contain his amusement and started laughing.

Mary opened her mouth to yell at him, but finally settled on a glare.

* * *

"It's really that low?" Gaignun asked, skimming over a flimsy.

"I'm afraid so," Helmer replied, frowning. "The Kukai Foundation makes some of its revenue as a supply depot and repair station, but not enough to keep itself afloat. Therefore it's reliant on the Second Miltian government to pick up the tab. We can cover the cost needed to maintain it as a supply-and-repair station, but not much beyond that. Still, I don't want to give up on this idea just yet."

The Kukai Foundation was a refurbished free-orbiting colony now owned by a fictitious industrialist named Soze Kukai. Helmer had planned to use the colony as a base for unidentified ships to harry U-TIC supply lines and hopefully slow down their construction efforts, but the financial aspect of the project was giving him some problems.

The two of them were in Helmer's spacious office, Gaignun sitting in the comfortable lounge area, Helmer standing at the window and staring out at the panoramic view of Mitrei. Second Miltia's capital city was undergoing a growth spurt.

Gaignun tossed the flimsy on the table and picked up another. "Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way." There was a thoughtful expression on the sixteen-year-old's face as he read the second flimsy.

"Oh?" Helmer turned to look at him.

"If the Foundation can't support itself through supply and repair, it'll need to support itself some other way. It shouldn't have to rely on the government," Gaignun said.

The Second Miltian Representative mulled that over. "Just what are you thinking, Nigredo?"

Gaignun's lip twitched in amusement. "After more than two years I'd expect you to be used to my new name."

"Sorry." Helmer smiled apologetically. "To me 'Gaignun' is the name of a cat. I don't know that I'll ever be accustomed to calling you that."

Gaignun shrugged. "I suppose it's all right." He looked at the clock on the wall. "I'd probably better get back home."

"You sound reluctant. Sensing trouble?"

The teenager shook his head. "Not really. But given Rubedo, I can't help but expect it."

After he left Helmer realized he still didn't know Gaignun's idea. Well, he was sure he'd hear about it soon enough, and turned back to the reports on his desk; U-TIC wasn't his only problem. There were rising incidents of illegal salvaging to be dealt with, and not just of civilian hardware. Refurbished military-grade equipment was showing up on the black market. That had to be dealt with. The Salvator Faction was quiet for the moment, but there’d been some unrest regarding the group's current leadership. At least the upcoming meeting with the Director of Vector's Second Division had been pushed back until tomorrow afternoon.

He got back to work.

* * *

A few minutes later Gaignun stepped out of the lobby into the afternoon sunlight. He knew Helmer had no desire to dissolve the Foundation; properly maintained, it would stand the best chance of keeping the U-TIC Organization at bay. He ran through the idea that'd been forming in his head for the past fifteen minutes or so.

From what he knew, what was now the Kukai Foundation had been built more than twenty years ago. A woman named Charlotte Reyns had had a vision of an enormous mobile recreational zone, and had sunk her not-inconsiderable inheritance into the project. Unfortunately the money'd dried up before construction was complete. The main structure, propulsion systems and gate jump generators had been finished, and not much else. Reyns had been forced to sell the partially built colony to Second Miltia, then under the auspices of Old Miltia. Until now no one had found a permanent use for it.

He thought about the picture he'd seen. It resembled nothing more than a drop of water at the center of a giant metal flower. He wondered if the "petals" could close around the dome as a shield. He'd have to remember to ask about that.

Reyns's idea hadn't been without merit. Had she succeeded in finishing the project it likely would've been one of the most popular destinations in the star cluster. The problem had been that the colony wasn't drawing in a large enough income during construction.

Turn the Foundation into a full-scale city instead of just an entertainment resort, but keep up the supply-and-maintenance end. That would bring in jobs, and of course the residents would want amenities, which meant more jobs--and where there were jobs there was profit, and that meant funding. It was by no means an instant solution but--he was certain--it would be a lasting one. He'd talk it over with Rubedo later, see what his older brother had to say about the whole situation, then get back to Helmer, once the Representative came home.

But all in all he was quite sure it would work.


	7. New Arrangements

**Chapter 7: New Arrangements**

The sound of the front door sliding open dragged Rubedo's attention away from the book he'd once again been attempting to read: Gaignun was back. He shoved a bookmark between the pages and set it down, sitting up straighter as his brother came into the room. "All right, you've got something on your mind. What's up?" _I can tell even without the link_ , he added telepathically.

Gaignun flung himself down on the couch next to Rubedo and exhaled. "Helmer and I were discussing the Kukai Foundation. It's not doing so well." He related the earlier conversation, followed by the idea that had been forming in his head on the way home. "There's no guarantee it'll work, but I think it will."

Rubedo thought that over. He knew why Gaignun was telling him all this--for some reason Gaignun's ideas tended to take a more coherent form when he bounced them off of his older sibling. So he gave the idea another moment's consideration. "So how will the whole 'disrupting U-TIC' thing work, with the Foundation as a city?"

"That's for a perpetual income. The Foundation will be a corporate sub-state of Second Miltia, with its own private military and security force. In the meanwhile, we'll do what we've been doing, but at least the ships we send out will be better equipped than before." Gaignun paused. "This is going to be a monumental undertaking."

* * *

Shelley idly picked at the touchpad with one hand, her chin resting on the other as she contemplated the equation on the screen. A moment later she tapped out an answer and closed the program. With a stretch she swiveled her chair around and stood up. "Done!" The exclamation was reserved, yet triumphant.

"Finally," Mary muttered. "Didn't think you were gonna take that long with your homework."

The violet-haired girl groaned. "Just wait until you have to deal with these problems." She shook her head in irritation and changed the subject. "Anyway, whose turn is it to cook tonight? Gaignun's?"

Mary nodded. "Sounds about right. We should probably go help him, shouldn't we?"

"Yes. He's either going to want help or need it."

* * *

As it turned out Gaignun had found something he could make without too much difficulty--at least, not as much as he usually had. The girls found him in the kitchen, wiping a bit of tomato juice off of his hands with a disposable towel.

"Whatcha making?" Mary asked, peering over the edge of the counter. _Black olives, green olives, tomatoes. What are those other green things?_

"Nachos," Gaignun answered. "Like what we had at that restaurant a couple weeks back, but with green onions instead of peppers."

Mary hesitated. "Green onions aren't spicy, are they?" When she'd found bits of hot pepper in her food she'd carefully picked off each piece, giving them to Shelley, who _did_ like spicy foods.

He shook his head. "No, they're mild."

There was a clattering as Shelley brought out a trivet from one of the drawers. "It looks like you're almost done."

Gaignun nodded. "I just need to put the toppings on, then wait for Helmer to get back before I put them in the oven." The same sound that alerted Rubedo of his return caught his attention. "Speak of the devil."

* * *

The five of them were grouped around the kitchen table, carefully removing chips from the baking sheet and paying due compliments to Gaignun after they'd each taken a bite. The black-haired teenager grinned modestly.

There were a few minutes of industrious silence as they proceeded to make a dent in the large meal. Then Helmer spoke up, voicing a thought he'd had shortly after Gaignun left his office that afternoon.

"Wait, what?" Rubedo mumbled around a bite of nacho. He swallowed and tried again. "What was that again?"

Helmer reached for another topping-heavy chip and gestured with it. "I said, I think I ought to put Gaignun in charge of the Kukai Foundation. He already knows a great deal about the Foundation--both of you do, in fact. Oh yes--what was that idea you had earlier? You left before I had a chance to hear it."

It was fortunate that Gaignun had discussed things with Rubedo earlier. He outlined his plan in a few brief phrases.

There was a thoughtful silence. "Ye-es, I think you've got the right idea," Helmer said slowly. "Of course, this will take a long time to implement but in the end it will probably be for the best. As for how you'd head this project, I was thinking you might pose as Soze's son."

"Wouldn't that raise questions?" Gaignun pointed out. "There's no mention anywhere of Soze Kukai even having a son."

Helmer grinned. "That won't be a problem. Mr. Kukai is well known as an eccentric, reclusive and secretive man. I designed him that way on purpose. So it shouldn't come as a big surprise he has a son he never mentions."

Gaignun nodded. "It probably helps that I keep out of the public eye, though some people have to realize I'm part of this household. How would we work that in?"

"Actually, it probably wouldn't be that hard to make it seem like you're his estranged son," Shelley interjected. _Estranged_ was her new word. "Let's see. You left home when you were younger, but as a favor to Mr. Kukai, Helmer took you in. Now, in his old age--actually, how old is Mr. Kukai?" she asked Helmer.

"Sixty-six."

"Okay. In his old age," she continued, "he decides to make amends and start training you to take over his business. And so the rest of the universe will now know you as Gaignun Kukai."

Rubedo looked at her in admiration. "Wow, you're good," he said, finishing off the last nacho. While the others had been talking, he and Mary had polished off the remaining chips.

A slow smile spread across Helmer's face. "I think this could work."


	8. Unchanging Affection

**Chapter 8: Unchanging Affection**

It would take a couple weeks for Gaignun's new identity to go through the system. There were educational records to falsify, medical records, travel history, Net posts and personal images. . . . When he'd said yes to the change in identity he hadn't realized so much would be involved.

He watched as the datafile on himself altered and grew. A message appeared on the screen: a request for a perusal of holo-images. He looked. They were variations of a vacation he'd supposedly taken with his father when he was eight. After a moment's thought he picked the third set since he'd already come up with a story to go along with them.

Meanwhile news of the Foundation's altered status was already making its way around the UMN. Business contracts were being drawn up, while people were showing interest in relocating to the newly established residential zones--though it would be some time before those were made habitable. Still, the response was heartening.

Gaignun turned back to the datafile, and made a note of the changes.

* * *

" _Heated debate surrounds the Species Preservation Act, currently under discussion by the Federation Executive Committee. The Act, which is expected to be passed before the end of this year, is intended to counteract the devastating biological effects of the Life Recycling Law. However, members of several radical anti-life-recycling groups such as Untainted Blood and Heritage of Adam are calling this a cowardly solution._ " The news reporter adjusted the position of his button-microphone and continued. " _Untainted Blood leader Bertram Child has stated that ‘all incidents of Life Recycling should be expunged from existence’, and that--_ "

Disgusted, Rubedo changed the channel. Anything was better than hearing about some anti-recycling bigots who couldn't see beyond their own prejudices. Expunged from existence? How did that even work? Did they include all the cultural and technological advancements that ultimately stemmed from the Life Recycling Act? He snorted. Probably not. Equally probable was that they'd object to surrendering the comforts that’d come from the LRA. There was a tug at his sleeve. He looked around to see Mary looking worriedly at him.

The newscast had interrupted a game he'd been playing with Mary and Shelley. It was his turn; he drew a card and moved his piece. "Sorry about that. The whole life recycling thing just bugs me."

Shelley drew her hand back from the card she'd been about to pick up. "That's where people have machines implanted or genetic changes done before birth, isn't it? We've been learning about that lately."

Rubedo nodded. "But it ended up causing a lot more problems than it solved."

The girls were silent for a bit. Then: "Actually, there's something Mary and I wanted to talk to you about," Shelley admitted slowly. She brushed her hair away from the back of her neck, while Mary did the same, and leaned forward. "We're variants too, aren't we?"

It was the first time Rubedo had ever seen the dataports on the backs of the girls' necks. He sat back, dumbfounded. "Yeah. Yeah you are." It was hard to say as much. He never wanted to do or say anything that would hurt either of them.

"But you are too, right? You and Gaignun?" Mary spoke up. "Like how you can talk to each other in your heads?"

Again he nodded. "Yup. We are." Well, they'd shown him theirs. . . . "And--" he reached for Mary's hand, pressing the tips of her fingers against the circular diving ports in the back of his own neck. They were concealed by a flesh-colored membrane, but the indentations could still be felt.

He turned to look at them. "But you know, none of this really matters. Dataports or no dataports, you're still just Mary and Shelley to us. That's not going to change."

The two of them hugged him, relieved.

* * *

Later that night Rubedo and Gaignun sat with Helmer in the Representative's study.

Rubedo told other two about what the girls had shown him. Gaignun's eyes widened fractionally, but Helmer simply closed his and sighed. The redhead looked at the older man quizzically. "You already knew?"

"I did. Since the interlink ports didn't appear to be doing them any damage, I decided not to say anything about them. Besides, if anyone was going to bring them up I thought it should be Shelley and Mary, not me." The others agreed. "Ultimately, though, none of that matters," he added, echoing Rubedo's earlier comments. Helmer shifted in his chair. "Now that we've established that we don't love those girls any less, how are things going with your new background?" he turned to ask Gaignun.

"Medical and school records are basically complete. The hard part has been coming up with a personal history. I've been working on anecdotes, but I keep finding I've contradicted myself somewhere. Hopefully I'll have my story straight before too long."

Helmer gave a slow nod. "That's good to hear. We need to work as quickly as possible on this. On that note the colony itself should be back in this star system in just a few days. Work crews have already been selected."

"That'll leave U-TIC's supply lanes clear, won't it?" Rubedo asked.

"It can't be helped, though in the end I think this will turn out to be worth the risk," Helmer said. He looked up at the clock: 00:35. "But we're not getting everything done in one day. I'm headed for bed; you two try not to stay up 'til sunrise," he added, knowing that they well might. "Good night."

"Good night," they echoed.


	9. Results

**Chapter 9: Results**

Gaignun stepped through the open airlock of the transport, looking around at the nondescript colony that was the Kukai Foundation--or at least its shuttle dock. It was the first time he'd seen it in person, having only seen lasergraph blueprints and datafile images from the days when it'd been owned by Charlotte Reyns. It was a dull place of gray and brown metals and too-bright lights, a place that reeked of machine oils and where a cacophony of sounds echoed off the walls.

A great deal had been accomplished in the last month. No longer a simple supply-and-repair port, it now boasted lodging facilities, restaurants and shops for the growing transient population. Ships lined the dock in either direction. Orange- and green-coveralled mechanics moved purposefully about the docks, in the middle of tasks or looking for work to do, while civilians sought out places to eat or relax. The utilitarian surroundings didn't matter; there was a peculiar romance to a city or station in mid-construction. People could say they'd "known it when."

The Kukai Foundation was going from near dead to thriving. So far, it was what Gaignun had been hoping for.

He made his way down the narrow ramp's soft incline, green eyes casting about for the reason he'd gone there in the first place. It made itself obvious a moment later: a middle-aged man with gray hair and worn clothing was waving him over. Gaignun complied.

"You're Gaignun Kukai, huh?" the man who'd just introduced himself as Warren McCall asked. Gaignun nodded affably. "Not what I was expecting, I'm glad to say." McCall grinned lopsidedly.

"Oh?" One of Gaignun's eyebrows rose in curiosity.

"Well, yeah. Your dad's a famed grouch, though I haven't had to deal with the guy much I'm glad to say. I thought it might be hereditary."

For a moment Gaignun was taken aback by McCall's forwardness, then found himself laughing soundlessly. "How do you know I'm not?" he asked when he got control of himself. At McCall's reaction he relented. "No, don't worry. I didn't get much from my father. I may be his proxy, but that doesn't mean I'm going to act like him. On that note, what was it you had me come up here to see?"

McCall turned half about, glancing up and down at the pedestrian traffic. "Technically, this is something I could've discussed over a comm line, but that'd produce . . . 'iffy' results. Better for someone to see this in person."

Gaignun waited, letting his expression do the asking.

With another wave McCall gestured for Gaignun to follow. "Come on, I'll show you."

* * *

Though his eyes were focused on the book in front of him, Rubedo saw none of the print. Instead he saw bright lights and dull metals, the result of the mental link between himself and Gaignun. It was odd riding mental piggyback like this, but he was curious about the Foundation and Gaignun had given his permission.

He was also worried. He and Gaignun had never been this far apart before, even if Gaignun was only half an orbit away. Rubedo already missed his younger brother, though he was careful to keep that out of the link.

So far things seemed to be going fairly well. He watched his brother's reaction to McCall's comment with no small amusement, and relaxed further. Gaignun was all right.

A minute later he gave Gaignun the psychic equivalent of a squeeze on the shoulder and let the link fade to little more than a mental pressure--it was the knowledge itself that the link was active and that either of them could widen it at any time that mattered. The link was far too exhausting to maintain indefinitely.

He stared at the words in his book, this time seeing them but still not really registering them. He stood up from the outdoor cafe table he'd been seated at, and started for home. _You be careful, Gaignun_ , he said across the gulf of their minds.

_Of course_ , came the reply.

* * *

Mary stared at the screen, blue eyes taking in the number of pages Shelley had searched through and the deluge of text on the page her sister had been reading at that moment.

"Any luck?" the blonde girl asked.

Absently Shelley played with her braid. "Not really," she answered haltingly.

Recently Shelley's class had been learning about procurators and imaginary machines in her UMN Technologies class. They'd been assigned to find something or someone over the Network, such as a toy they'd seen only once in a display window or a distant relative. Shelley had picked an ornate mirror she'd seen in an antique shop just after moving in with Rubedo and the others. Her search had been successful, and made her think.

On the one hand, the two of them considered Rubedo, Gaignun and Helmer as their family; on the other, they--particularly Shelley--could remember a mother they'd wanted to return to, back when they'd been test subjects. Shelley had nightly told her younger sister everything she could remember, because Mary had been too young. They'd been informed of the difficulty in finding their biological family long ago, and had accepted the answer, but was there now a chance. . . ?

Even so, the search made them slightly uncomfortable. Did the act of searching for their mother mean they were rejecting the men who'd taken them in?

With a huff Shelley slouched in her seat and regarded the data that'd appeared on her screen. The weeklong search for their mother wasn't going well. While she could remember things like the way their mother moved or the smell of the soap she'd used, she couldn't remember things like their mother's first name (was it Mar-Something, or Something-Mar?) or where they'd lived. Perhaps this was an impossible task.

She squeezed her eyes shut to relieve the strain they were feeling. "Maybe one more try. . . ."

* * *

"I can see how that would be a problem."

McCall had led Gaignun along the docks, presumably to clarify his request. It was a slow trek as the two of them weaved through the pedestrian traffic, McCall occasionally pointing out something of interest. What he didn't point out, and what Gaignun could see clearly, was the lack of help. From the younger man's vantage point he could see three berths occupied, but only two dockhands working among them when there should have been at least two per ship. Looking around he noticed other signs of limited service personnel.

The Kukai Foundation was beginning to thrive, yes, but the rate at which people were flocking to it for rest and services was already exceeding the rate at which jobs were being filled. Gaignun dismissed the idea of droids: they were too costly and could only be programmed to do so much. The Foundation that had so recently been saved was already seeing trouble; for a moment Gaignun felt like he was in over his sixteen-year-old head.

Still, regardless of how he felt about it he'd agreed to be part of this, he reminded himself. _All right mind. Get to work._


	10. Reflection

**Chapter 10: Reflection**

Rubedo zipped his jacket and thrust his hands into his pockets, trying to maintain some warmth. He scowled irritably at the dark gray sky. _Why do I always end up leaving the house in crappy weather?_ he grumbled to himself. He kept walking.

It had been genuinely nice an hour ago, all blue skies and sunlight, almost misleading enough to make him think twice about wearing his jacket. Now he was grateful to have it. He moved unseeing along the sparsely populated sidewalk as his thoughts bubbled shapelessly in his mind.

He'd felt somehow trapped lately and had needed some form of escape, so here he was, aimlessly wandering the streets of Mitrei. The walk was supposed to calm him down, but instead it seemed only to increase a sense of discontent that had been building in him for the past few days. After a while he slowed to a stop and leaned against a signpost.

_God damn it_ , he swore internally in an effort to raise his spirits. It worked, to a degree. _Maybe I should've just. . . ._ A loud impact interrupted his thoughts, and he looked to his left.

"Out!" A thin blond man was being bodily shoved out the door of what looked like a convenience store by what was likely one of the employees.

"Hey. . . ! The hell did I do wrong?" The blond straightened up and dusted himself off.

The employee glared with a mixture of disdain and malice, his voice lowering to a growl. "I won't have any freaks--" he stressed the word pointedly "--working in my store." So, he was the owner, it would seem.

Rubedo twitched furiously, a spark of rage lighting his blue eyes. "Hey, give that guy a break."

The store owner rounded on him. "Stay the hell out of this, kid!" He turned back to the "freak" he'd been yelling at before. "Like I said, you can take your damned 'enhancements' and shove them up your worthless ass. And if I ever see you walk past this place again, I'll--" he raised a fist and began to swing it at the blond man. In midswing it collided with Rubedo's upraised right arm; it was as if the man'd hit a steel bar. He rubbed his fist. "What the hell? Didn't I tell you to stay out of this?" he snarled to conceal his sudden confusion.

The ferocity in Rubedo's expression was unmistakable. "I said leave him alone."

The owner sneered and shoved at the blond again. "So pathetic you have to be saved by some brat." He spat and with a final "freak!" went back into his store.

The short redhead felt a hand on his shoulder. "Huh?" He looked up to see an expression of concern on the uberhuman's face.

"You all right?"

Rubedo blinked. "Ah . . . yeah." He lowered his arm, slightly embarrassed.

"Damned kid, what the hell'd you do that for?" The blond's harsh words were softened by his tone and the look of gratitude on his face.

With a half-shrug Rubedo looked away, then back up at the blond. ". . . Er, sorry? I just hate that kind of thinking."

The blond nodded. "I can appreciate that, believe me. Oh yeah, almost forgot--name's Ian," he said, extending a hand.

"Rubedo," he said, taking the offered hand.

Together they walked to the end of the block and sat on the edge of a large cement planter. "So what happened back there?" Rubedo asked.

Ian was quiet for a moment. "I wish I knew. Well, okay, here's what happened. I got a job running the register at that place, right?" Rubedo nodded to keep the story going. "But the guy doesn't bother asking if I'm an uberhuman or not. I guess he figured because I'm not seven feet tall with wires coming out of my ears I must be a regular human (and between you and me I _am_ a regular human, far's I'm concerned). Then today I come into work with my copy of _Upgraded_ under my arm--you know, something to read on my lunch break--and the guy loses it. So what if I'm a variant or uberhuman or whatever the term is next week?"

Rubedo let out a breath. "The Species Preservation Act's supposed to help with that, though, right?"

Ian snorted. "Supposed to. I don't put much faith in it myself." Seeing Rubedo's expression he continued. "Don't get me wrong, the Act's a good idea, and I hope it goes through. It's just that even if it becomes illegal to discriminate against uberhumans, you can't instantly change the way people think. --It's funny. Thirty years ago you couldn't get a job if you weren't enhanced somehow. These days, you can't get a job if you are." There was a chime as the traffic light changed. Pedestrians were now allowed to cross. Ian hopped down from the planter edge. "Look, I'd better get going. The wonderful world of new employment isn't going to seek me out. You know, you're a good kid to help out some random stranger. Thanks for what you did just now."

"I'm not a--" Rubedo began to yell in Ian's direction, then caught sight of his reflection in the window of the office across from him. "I'm not a kid," he said quietly.

What looked at him from the glass _was_ a child, from the wide eyes to the short stature to the scrawny limbs. He blinked and ran a hand over his face, the movement perfectly mimicked by his reflection. With a sigh he closed his eyes against the image, exhaling slowly. He hadn't wanted to face that bitter truth.

_I'm not a kid. . . ._

The assurance didn't work so well just then.

* * *

"I see." Helmer peered back at the communications screen from where he stood in his private study. Gaignun's face filled the image. "If it's not one thing it's another. Though I suppose we should consider this less a problem and more the dangers of things progressing well." His lips quirked.

"A good way of looking at it," Gaignun agreed. "I've been thinking of how to draw in a workforce in the numbers we need now, but so far no luck. Right now the Foundation doesn't have much to recommend it."

A curious expression crossed Helmer's face. "I thought you said it was a good place."

"I did and it is," came the quick reply. "But right now the Foundation is little more than a dock colony--admittedly a dock colony that will hopefully become a thriving metropolis--but for now still just a dock colony. And you know what sort of reputations those have."

"I see your point," Helmer admitted. He made his way back to his seat, a small stack of optical discs clutched in one hand. "Exactly how urgent is this situation?"

Gaignun looked toward the ceiling thoughtfully. "I'd say it's not quite 'urgent' yet, but enough of an issue to consider before things get out of hand. I might have a talk with Rubedo about this in a few minutes."

"Hoping for some inspiration?" Helmer inquired.

"You could say that."


	11. Great Minds

**Chapter 11: Great Minds**

An hour later Rubedo headed for the nearest park and was thankful to find it mostly deserted due to the inclement weather. He made his way to the wishing fountain on the far side and sat on the edge, glad that no one else was around. There was just too much on his mind; even the link to Gaignun was closed.

Resting his chin on one upraised knee he tried to ignore the constant spray of water against his side. It'd come as a crushing blow to his ego, the realization that he would never physically mature--was utterly unable to, was the truth of it. He'd always managed to ignore his outward appearance, seeing himself instead as the sixteen years he truly was. What switch had he flipped inside, and why couldn't he find it again? There was a chill in his gut as he finally understood how irrevocable that choice had been.

_What the hell am I going to do about this?_

* * *

"I thought you slept," Shelley said as a third yawn escaped Mary's lips that morning. The two of them had been playing at one of the city's recreational centers and were currently seeing if they could actually swing hard and high enough to flip themselves over the overhead bar. So far no luck, though Mary had almost launched herself from her swing earlier. She seemed to be winding down now, though.

Mary slowed to a stop and gave a half-hearted shrug. "I did--sort of. I couldn't stay asleep. I guess I'm kind of worried. . . ." Her voice trailed off and she looked away.

The violet-haired girl blinked at the admission then broke the silence with a soft "About?"

For a while Mary didn't answer, instead choosing to stare at the ground in front of her as though the bits of sand, dirt and grass might advise her somehow. "I don't. . . . Well. . . ." She tried a few more times to put her thoughts to words. Finally she settled on: "Are things gonna change?" She caught the surprised look on Shelley's face from the corner of her eye. "I mean, Gaignun's gonna go be some fake guy's son, so he'll be heading to that Foundation place and--"

"And you're not sure what's going to happen to us?" Shelley asked softly. Mary nodded, tangled blonde hair obscuring her face. "Maybe we should talk to somebody about this," Shelley offered and stood up. "Come on." With that she took her little sister's hand and helped her up.

"We'll talk to Helmer."

* * *

"You're sure?"

The thin soft drink can went _clank_ as Gaignun set it down on the low wall, giving McCall a long look. The older man had suggested focusing their employment efforts on uberhumans, at least for the first year or so of the Foundation's development. With the current stigma against enhanced humans there were countless uberhumans in need of jobs; they'd flock to the Foundation when they learned it was hiring. Yet it was that stigma that had Gaignun worried.

McCall nodded. "Absolutely I am." He gestured with his own drink at the power loaders at work in the distance. "I don't know if it was intentional or not but when Mr. Kukai drew up the original labor contracts he signed up with a few variant-friendly companies. So there are quite a number of folks here who're already used to working alongside variants or have variants in their families. Or are variants themselves. And given the way things are about to start booming we're gonna need the help."

Gaignun raised an eyebrow. "How can you tell?"

"Well, I've worked on more than a few dock colonies in my time--Pallas, Maria, you name it, I've probably been there. So I know a bit about budding stations. When word gets out about a new colony, people show up for the novelty and to say they've been there. Then word gets around about what sort of place it is, or it gets mentioned in one of the pop mags and then there's a flood of visitors--for a while. Now here's where it can get tricky." McCall paused to sip his soda. "That flood will only last for a little while, so a smart colony manager either figures out how to draw a permanent population or a continuous transient one. But you seem to be working both those angles, so you shouldn't have any trouble there. Anyway, it looks like we're just before getting the second, larger rush."

That surprised Gaignun. "It's only been a month."

McCall chuckled. "Word gets around. Regardless, we're going to need that help as soon as possible."

"I'll mention this to my father," Gaignun promised.

* * *

Perfect. Now he was cold and partially wet.

Rubedo stood up from where he'd been sitting, scowling as he realized the spray from the fountain had finally soaked through the right side of his clothes. Today was already miserable enough.

He flopped down on the grass, suddenly past caring. _I wonder how Gaignun's doing right now._ His thoughts turned to his dark-haired brother. Rubedo hoped the worker shortage on the Foundation would be resolved soon and Gaignun would be back. Who knew getting a colony up and running took so much work? Well, at least he knew one person who needed a job. Maybe he could track Ian down somehow.

In the next moment he was on his feet, misery forgotten, opening the link. _Hey, Gaignun!_ He scowled again, realizing Gaignun was blocking him. His brother was probably in the middle of something, but now that Rubedo had a useful idea he didn't want to wait. He pushed gently at the block, just enough to tell when it was lifted.

He spent a restless ten minutes before he eventually felt the block lift. _Hey Gaignun!_

_Yes?_

_I know how we can fix the employee shortage._ It didn't take long for Rubedo to fill Gaignun in on his idea. Then there was silence. _. . . Gaignun? You there. . . ?_

_Sorry. I'm just reeling from the coincidence._


	12. Unknown Direction

**Chapter 12: Unknown Direction**

"Gaignun!"

The black-haired teenager grinned as Mary and Shelley raced up to hug him as he stepped off the shuttle. He returned the gesture readily, grin still lighting up his face. "Missed me, huh?" Gaignun had trouble believing only two weeks had passed since he'd gone up to the Foundation; the girls' greeting made it seem like ages. They stood in the spaceport, a reunited family of sorts.

Mary nodded enthusiastically, her blonde hair bouncing. "Yeah! It's boring without you around to tease." A smile flashed across her face before she let go of him. "Besides, Rubedo's all mopey without you around."

Gaignun couldn't resist smirking at that. He looked around for his brother. "Where is he, anyway?"

With a sigh Shelley tilted her head back. Rubedo had stopped several feet back, head downcast, a strangely subdued expression on his face. His brother regarded him thoughtfully. It was unlike the redhead to be so reserved.

_Something wrong?_ Gaignun asked telepathically.

_. . . Tell you later._

"So, did everything go well?" Shelley broke the silence.

That was a more cheerful subject than Rubedo's odd reservation. "Actually, it did." He explained the Foundation's decision to start hiring uberhumans in force. "It'll help solve several problems, the worker shortage not least. Plus, this might help the Foundation's image."

"Image?" Mary echoed in confusion.

Gaignun paused a moment as he thought how to explain. "An image is how people think of something." He nodded toward a Clara Sun advertisement to their left. It showed a happy, laughing couple skiing down pristine Atalyan slopes, the Clara Sun logo displayed prominently on their gear. "Their products _are_ good, but the ads help to make people view them favorably. Anyway, with the employment of uberhumans, hopefully people will see the Foundation as a generally welcoming place."

Mary nodded, curiosity satisfied. "I get it now."

"Anyway, we should probably head home."

* * *

Helmer leaned back in his seat and regarded the man on the screen. "You're sure the rest of the Committee will go along with it?"

It was a young, pale face that stared back at him. "It might seem a bit . . . tyrannical . . . but it hardly matters. This Act _will_ go through Parliament. I've become quite irritated by the current situation and it's time reparations were made. Besides, the Directorship ought to be good for something."

The dark-skinned Representative nodded. "About reparations, I have to agree, Director Wilhelm. But why now?"

Wilhelm permitted himself a small smile. He rather liked Second Miltia's Representative; most didn't bother to question him so this was a refreshing change. "Why did I wait? It was originally thought that it would be enough to simply outlaw Life Recycling, but given the reports, especially the recent ones. . . ."

Helmer nodded slowly. For the past three years, since the Life Recycling Act had been repealed, there'd been attacks made on uberhumans ranging from violence in the streets to uberhumans being forced out of their homes in the middle of the night. There'd always been some animosity between modified and unmodified humans, but it had exploded since 4754. "I suppose this _is_ the best course of action."

"I believe so," Wilhelm said, a thoughtful look on his face. "I hear the newly established Kukai Foundation has been taking steps of its own to deal with these matters."

A smile crossed Helmer's features. "I see word gets around quickly."

"It's rather commendable, really. It's still a fledgling organization, is it not? Given the current climate most wouldn't dare to hire uberhumans."

Privately Helmer wondered just how much he should say. "Well, given the Foundation's job situation it's probably the wisest course."

"A good point."

* * *

_So, are you going to tell me what's up?_

Rubedo blinked in surprise then looked at Gaignun a long moment. _I thought I said later._

_It is later_ , Gaignun pointed out. _Don't worry, the girls are too distracted to notice a mental conversation._ He looked in the sisters' direction as they pressed themselves against the cab's windows, cheerfully identifying landmarks as they sped past. The spaceport was located in an unfamiliar part of the city. _So what's going on?_

For a while there was an awkward silence before Rubedo attempted an answer. _It's . . . I'm stuck like this, aren't I? In a kid's body, I mean._

_Yes, I suppose so._ Gaignun's tone was worried.

_When I realized how dangerous Red Dragon Mode was, I knew I had to halt it somehow. I just didn't think it'd be forever. I always thought--I always_ hoped _\--I'd figure out what it was I did . . . but I still don't know._ Rubedo looked out the window a moment, though it was the view in his head he was seeing. _Given the Foundation's construction efforts, you're going to be needed there more often, and probably sooner than later. Shelley and Mary are growing up and who knows what they'll do with their lives. So . . . what's going to happen to me? I'm not going to grow, but I don't think I can be 'just a kid' indefinitely. I don't think I could take that._

Gaignun had to admit his brother's concerns were fully justified. _I doubt things will stay just as they are_ , he responded slowly, giving careful thought to Rubedo's dilemma. _Maybe I'm not the only one who needs a new identity._

A wary sort of curiosity came over Rubedo. _Got something in mind?_

_Not yet._ A laugh interrupted them and the two brothers turned in almost perfect unison to see Mary clutching her sides in high amusement at something Shelley had said to her. _But maybe you shouldn't worry too much about this._

Rubedo frowned. _You're only saying that 'cause you're not in my situation._

_That's probably true_ , Gaignun said readily enough. _But these things tend to work out. We just need to give this more thought._

The smirk on Rubedo's face was forced. _I suppose you're right, as usual._

Gaignun raised an eyebrow, amusement coloring his tone. _I wouldn't know about that_ , he replied.

_Like I believe that._


	13. Imminent Destiny

**Chapter 13: Imminent Destiny**

Helmer strode quickly across the lobby of the government offices, a news disc clutched tightly in one hand, and stepped into the express elevator to the top floor. The carriage seemed to move at a crawl and he was glad there was no one with him to notice how nervous he was. It seemed forever before he made it to his office.

He settled himself in the large chair and fed the disc into a slot in his desk, readying himself for the upcoming flood of text. A moment later he rubbed at his eyes in frustration, as though hoping he could change what he saw. Of course, when he looked again, it was still just the same.

**Gaignun Kukai--Set to Inherit?**

**Kirsa Morgan**

**KUKAI FOUNDATION--If you've an interest in current events, then doubtless you've heard the rumors of wealthy industrialist Soze Kukai's sudden decline. A certain person on Mr. Kukai's staff, who wishes to remain anonymous, has stated that his last trip to Second Miltia was not a recreational visit as previously implied. Rather, it was taken in order to receive special treatment at the Mitrei First District Medical Center. There's been continuous speculation regarding Mr. Kukai's health over the last several months. The general consensus is that the founder of the Kukai Foundation is feeling the effects of old age, though some people have begun to suspect an addiction to prescription painkillers.**

**But what does this spell for Gaignun? For the past two years Soze's only son has been a driving force in the Foundation's construction efforts, earning the trust and respect of nearly everyone he's worked with. Many of the Foundation’s projects have flourished under the young man's guidance. Still, is Gaignun ready to take the reins? There have been statements from various individuals that Gaignun Kukai has been granted a wider authority of late, and that he will likely inherit his father's financial empire, perhaps as soon as next year.**

**However, some people are questioning the 18-year-old's impending control of the Kukai industrial fortune. Alice Fontane, proprietor of the Livewire Cafe in one of the Foundation's wildly successful commercial zones, says that "it's set up too conveniently for Gaignun. There's got to be something going on here." A recent addition to the Foundation's growing population, Ms. Fontane expressed skepticism that Gaignun's greater authority was aboveboard, adding that she “doubted Soze Kukai would be deteriorating if it wasn't for Gaignun's presence.”**

Helmer huffed at that and quickly skimmed to the end before pulling the disc back out.

He had purposely leaked the information that Soze seemed "under the weather" lately--after all, there was nothing terribly shocking in the idea of an elderly man falling ill. Eventually time wore everyone down. The rest, unfortunately, had been fabricated without his approval. While the Foundation was indeed mostly under Gaignun's care, Soze was _his_ creation. Helmer had worked carefully on the mythology surrounding Soze, so he was vexed to see Ms. Morgan's unauthorized story in print, even if she was one of his plants. Exhaling, he punched in Ms. Morgan's communication code and leaned back, awaiting an answer. It came after two chimes.

The face that appeared on his screen was tanned and amiable. Brown eyes peered out from under dark green bangs, while thick waves of hair framed her head. By her appearance Kirsa Morgan seemed the trustworthy, agreeable type, the sort that invited confessions and confidences. She blinked once at the caller then broke into a wide grin. "I bet you're furious about that article I posted."

That Ms. Morgan had correctly guessed the reason for his call wasn't much of a surprise. "As it so happens, you're right. What possessed you to post that story?" Now he was starting to feel more curious than vexed.

"I've been running these articles for you for what, just under two years now? I ought to have a pretty good idea of what's going on. Listen, that bit about Soze's health? Sure, it's okay as an aside in another story, but we've got to call attention to it now. We both know that kid of his is going to inherit, so why not pave the way? So I cast just a smidgeon of doubt on Gaignun's character and the readers flock to his defense. I know the sort of people who read my articles--trust me, this will work."

For moment Helmer sat there, attempting to overcome a sudden onset of speechlessness. "And you neglected to inform me of any of this because. . . ?"  
If anything, Kirsa's grin widened. "Because I knew you'd say no."

Helmer's mouth quirked. "Again, you're right. Is there anything else you've cooked up that I should know about?"

* * *

Rubedo sat on the edge of the support beam, kicking the air in boredom. "Should've stayed home," he muttered to himself.

"Hey," Gaignun said from a couple feet away. "It was your idea to come to the Foundation. It's not my fault it's still mostly construction."

Tossing a glare in his brother's direction, Rubedo pushed himself off of the beam, grunting when his knees absorbed the shock of landing. "Actually, it sort of is. I thought you said there were some interesting things going on here finally."

Gaignun shrugged. "It depends on your definition of 'interesting.' I saw what this place was like two years ago and believe me, this is a major improvement. Look, from there to--" he pointed "--there, all that was vacant when we started. Now there're at least seventy-five thousand people living and working here. And the sublevels are being renovated, though that's where we have to be really careful."

"Yeah?" Rubedo gestured for him to continue.

"Well, that's where we've been stockpiling both weapons and data against U-TIC. So we have to be careful who works down there. But except for installing the emergency-supply wells and adding a fresh coat of paint, the sublevels should be done soon. The environmental bugs've given us the all-clear, at least where air pressure and composition are concerned. What I'm really looking forward to seeing, though, is the lake. I think there've only been three other artificial--"

"A lake?" Suddenly Rubedo's entire demeanor changed. "How the hell are you gonna pull that off?"

"Well, it's not going to happen overnight, you know, but it should serve as both a tourist attraction and recreation for the residents. And it won't just be a giant indoor swimming pool either, but a lake with a real ecosystem--which might be usable as a replenishable food source."

A pensive look settled on Rubedo's features, and the redhead looked up at Gaignun--quite a distance up, given the growth spurt his younger brother had recently undergone. "You've really become attached to this place, haven't you Gaignun?"

Gaignun turned toward his smaller sibling, surprised. "I've never really thought about it, but I guess I have. To be honest, it's hard not to, considering how much effort I've put into it."

Rubedo closed his eyes, a mischievous smile lighting his face before it faded. "That makes sense. So when does this all become yours?"

Again Gaignun was surprised by Rubedo's choice of words. "Mine?"

"We both know 'Soze' can't stay around forever. Fake though he is, he's still a geezer. So he'll croak and you'll get the Foundation. What I want to know is--what'll happen when you do? Will you be here permanently?"

Gaignun nodded. "It seems likely. I can't see not being here to either help or oversee."

"Heh," Rubedo murmured. "Well, I guess that also makes sense."

* * *

Shelley settled into the booth across from Mary, setting her purse against the wall. Then she peered up at the server who seemed to materialize by the side of their table.

"Would either of you care for something to drink? We have sodas, iced teas, lemonade, hot chocolate, coffee. . . ." The server--whose nametag read MAYUMI--rattled off the more popular soft drinks as the girls opened their menus.

Mary looked up in surprise. "You have red cream soda?" It was her favorite.

"We do!" Mayumi confirmed. "Is that what you'd like?"

"Yes please."

Shelley looked up. "And I'll have an iced mint tea."

With that Mayumi left with their drink orders in hand. For a while the sisters perused the choices on the thin plastic menus. Mary put hers down and squirmed a bit as she took a look around the establishment. It was a dimly lit place, the decor a combination of real and imitation woods. An extensive bar was situated a few yards from their booth, and glowing liquor signs hung everywhere. It wasn't the sort of place one would expect to find a pair of young girls. Even so, Shelley had noticed the words "Bar and Grill" under the word "IRONMAN", and not just "Bar", so it was probably safe enough.

A few minutes later Mayumi showed up with their drinks. "Ready to order?" Moments later she had their meal requests and they had their beverages. Again she departed.

Mary leaned forward. "So, what was so important you had to get me away from the others?" she asked, blue eyes gleaming with intrigue.

Shelley looked off to one side, considering her words. "It's about Rubedo and Gaignun," she began. "This whole thing isn't good for them."

"You mean," Mary said, "how Gaignun's grown up, but Rubedo still hasn't?" Her voice lowered on the last two words, and she glanced around as though hoping no one had overheard.

The older girl nodded. "Exactly. We've got to think of some way to help them."

Mary agreed. "Just wondering, do you have any ideas yet?"

"Not a one," Shelley admitted, and slumped in her seat.

"Don't worry," the younger girl reassured her sister. "We'll think of something."


	14. Solutions

**Chapter 14: Solutions**

"All right, girls." They heard Mayumi's voice and looked up to see the server laden with two plates. "Be careful--these plates are still hot," Mayumi warned them. "Will that be all for you?" The sisters nodded.

There were a few minutes of silence as they dug into their meals. Whatever misgivings Mary might have had about the IRONMAN, she had to admit the food was good. Her baked potato was hot and fluffy with all the trimmings she could want. Even so, she set down her fork. "Hey, Shelley. . . ?"

Her sister looked up. "Hm?"

"Do you think," Mary began slowly, "do you think Rubedo likes being Rubedo?"

Shelley set her tuna melt down and straightened up. "What do you mean?"

Mary considered her response for a moment. "Well, sometimes it seems like he's got this . . . trapped look to him. Like he's caged or something, I don't know. It's just something I've been thinking about for a while." She shrugged and started eating again.

For a while Shelley was quiet, mulling over her younger sister's words. What Mary had said was true: Rubedo _did_ seem caged. They both knew he was distressed by his inability to grow. Shelley had cleared the five-foot mark months ago, Gaignun towered over his older brother, and Mary was now eye-level--but Rubedo looked just the same as he did when he'd first stepped into their hospital room four years ago.

Shelley nodded slowly. "I think you're right."

For a while they continued eating, though with less enthusiasm than before, as they thought about Rubedo's situation. They both had a soft spot for the redhead. Then Mary looked up. "You know, I think he's kinda jealous of Gaignun." When Shelley looked up she continued. "I mean, Gaignun's grown up. He's out in the world now--there're news stories about him. But Rubedo's just . . . sheltered, I guess. Not many people know about him, and given how he looks, no one'd believe he's really Gaignun's older brother."

". . . And he can't say so, because now everyone knows Gaignun as Soze Kukai's son, and Mr. Kukai has only one son," Shelley noted.

"Rubedo's in a real bind, isn't he?" Mary asked sadly. Once again silence reigned at their table.

* * *

There was a ringing from Gaignun's connection gear. He considered letting it go to message--the plush couch he was reclining on was almost too comfortable--but a moment later he thumbed it on. Helmer's face appeared on the screen, and the Representative looked upset. "All right, what's wrong?" Gaignun asked.

"I just received word, Gaignun." Helmer paused. "Both the _Kingfisher_ and the _Isolde_ have been sunk."

Gaignun swore, but softly. Both ships had been modified freighters, carefully designed to look like civilian craft but in fact equipped with heavy weaponry. Until now they'd several times put a dent in U-TIC's reorganization efforts. They were also two of the best ships Helmer had in his clandestine war with U-TIC.

"This is a problem," Helmer noted. "We could launch the Foundation, but given that it's publicly a civilian enterprise, we _can't_ launch the Foundation. And it takes time to modify a ship."

Gaignun had to admit Helmer was right. They'd planned to have the Foundation equip a small fleet of anti-UTIC ships in secret, and they were making progress in that direction, but they couldn't make the diversion of resources too obvious. A colony was permitted a certain amount of weaponry to defend itself, but there was a limit, and a large fleet of heavily armed ships exceeded it.

The door to the suite slid open and Gaignun turned half about in his seat to see Rubedo burst in. The redhead threw himself with characteristic energy on the couch next to Gaignun, holding a wrapped parcel in his outstretched hands. "God damn I love this place," he enthused as he pulled the wrapping off to reveal a paperback book titled _Uller Uprising_. It was a reprint, clearly only a couple of centuries old, but the story the pages contained was the same as when it was first copyrighted in AD 1952. For a moment Rubedo stared delighted at his prize, then he looked up. "What's wrong?"

Gaignun turned the connection gear slightly so that Helmer could see both of them. "Hello, Rubedo," Helmer said with a smile. The smile faded as he repeated his unhappy news.

"Man, that's a bummer," Rubedo said. The others knew he meant far more than he said. "So it looks like we need to get our hands on bigger guns without getting ourselves in hot water over it."

Helmer nodded. "That's about the conclusion we'd reached so far."

* * *

It hadn't taken Mayumi much effort to talk the girls into ordering dessert. Mary's and Shelley's eyes glowed as they contemplated the sundaes in front of them, piled high with chocolate, caramel, walnuts and lots of cherries--but not for very long because they were more interested in eating the confections than looking at them. Halfway through hers Mary began to giggle softly, which turned into a coughing fit when a bit of ice cream went down the wrong pipe. She finally got control of herself.

Shelley looked at her sister. "Something funny?"

Mary took a few deep breaths, just in case. "You were in a different aisle, I think, but you remember that store we went to? The one with the neat displays?" Shelley nodded. "I'd forgotten about it 'til now, but--okay, so Rubedo's looking at this really old tall clock, you know, the kind that has all wheels and things inside and twelve numbers on the front. He steps back and bumps into this lady going past. Then she turns to Gaignun and says, (though now I think about it, maybe she couldn't see very well), she says he should keep an eye on his _kid_." Soon she was gasping for air she was laughing so hard.

Shelley joined in. "Even if Rubedo really was twelve Gaignun'd still only be six when--"

Suddenly both of them stopped laughing, their expressions mirrored as they realized the solution to their problem.

"That's it, isn't it?" Shelley asked, knowing the answer.

Mary nodded. "Yes. Yes it is."


	15. Changing Identity

**Chapter 15: Changing Identity**

"I think it might work," Helmer said of the sisters' idea. The girls had rushed back to the hotel as soon as they'd paid the check and were now waiting to hear what the others thought.

Rubedo was less enthusiastic. "You can't be serious. I can't be his kid. No way. --He's my younger brother for crying out loud."

"Well, saying the two of you are brothers would work for _now_ ," Shelley began. "But since it doesn't look like you're going to start growing any time soon. . . ." She shrugged, expressively.

The redhead grumbled and stood up from the couch, arms folded. "I'm getting really damned sick of that. But seriously: make Gaignun my dad? That's just insane. No one'd buy it." No one needed to guess that his pride had been wounded.

"Actually, we could just say you're adopted. At least that will take care of the age thing," Gaignun said slowly.

Rubedo glared. "Et tu, Gaignun? Well, it seems I'm outvoted here. So am I Rubedo Kukai now?" The others looked ready to agree with that, except for Mary. Rubedo looked at her. "You don't agree?"

She shook her head. "Actually, I was thinking Gaignun Kukai, Jr. Jr. for short."

He was curious. "Why Jr.?"

Mary smiled. "I like Jr."

* * *

"I'd have to say he took the idea pretty well, all things considered," Mary commented from her bed that night. Aside from all his outbursts, he didn't put up that much of a fight, she thought inwardly. Actually, a lot them were really cute. Now where had _that_ thought come from? Though there was something charming about the way he ducked his head when he was embarrassed. . . .

Shelley tore her eyes away from the UMN screen to look at her sister. "Hm?"

The blonde turned over. "You know, Rubedo. --Well, I guess we should be calling him Jr. now."

Shelley's mouth turned up at the corners. "That would probably be a good idea."

A moment later Mary pushed herself upright, her gaze falling on a small white object. It was maybe three inches across with a row of small buttons along one side. "Is that what I think it is?"

Shelley nodded. "I know I said I was giving up on the search, but. . . ."

"I know," Mary assured her. "It'd be nice to know where we came from. And even if we do find out, it's not like we'd have to leave here." Shelley knew that Mary's "here" meant more than just the Foundation. "Any luck so far?"

"Not really," Shelley was reluctant to say. "It's mostly dead ends. Back then, I tried to remember so much, I thought there was no way I'd ever forget. . . . But now so much is gone, and what I do remember I'm not sure I remember _right_."

Mary climbed out of her bed and into Shelley's, resting her head on her sister's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find something out, someday."

Shelley smiled. "Me too."

* * *

Rubedo--no, he was Jr. now, it was time to discard the old name--leaned back in the softly upholstered chair in the suite's study. "So what's involved in changing identities anyway? Anything I should worry about?"

Gaignun looked back at him from where he stood. "For me the hard part was coming up with a personal history. Mostly it's falsifying records, but people expect you to be _from_ somewhere."

Jr. considered that. "I guess I can handle that. So, no signing things?" He looked up hopefully.

"Yes, there will be. Lots and lots of signing." Gaignun didn't bother to hide his amusement.

"Damn." Jr. was hoping to avoid all that. "All right, change of subject. What are we going to do about U-TIC?"

Gaignun sobered up at the question. "I hate to admit it, but at the moment I don't have any ideas. The Foundation's main defense is a ring of energy cannons. They're powerful, if their target is in range, but they're still only for defense. Most of the weapons we've obtained are for ships, though. Normally I wouldn't worry about arming civilian model ships in secret, but right now the Foundation's drawing a lot of attention. We have to be discreet." He sighed. "Actually, that cannon ring is the reason we can't have a heavily armed fleet, but I'm unwilling to have them uninstalled."

For a moment Jr. stared at nothing. "Just what constitutes a 'fleet' anyway?" He was sure he'd known once, but hadn't bothered to remember.

The black-haired man reached for his connection gear and checked. "Let's see. . . . For a colony this size, ten battleships and either sixty auto-techs or twenty heavily-equipped AMWSs."

"Okay, so we can't have a fleet, well, not one that's more than lightly armed at least.” Jr. looked up. "But what about one ship? One very heavily armed ship? What it really needs is to be a match for anything the U-TIC Organization might throw at us. And it needs to be able to take the fight to them, which a defense fleet couldn't do."

Gaignun was liking the sound of Jr.'s idea. "That sounds like it could work. I don't think it's too late in Helmer's night to tell him about this."

* * *

A few minutes later they had Helmer on the line. "You came up with something quicker than I'd expected," he admitted once Jr. outlined his plan. "All right. Let me know what resources you need."

"Thanks, Helmer. It's going to take a lot of work, though," Jr. noted. "We need to think carefully about how this thing'll be built."

_You mean_ you _need to think of how it'll be built_ , Gaignun sent through the link.

_You're right_ , Jr. thought back. _Well, you've got the Foundation; this ship's going to be_ my _baby._

On the screen Helmer smiled. He could always tell when the brothers were engaged in a telepathic conversation. "While we don't want U-TIC to remain too long unchallenged, don't rush the design too much, either."

Jr. was startled by that. "The design? I was thinking of something like one of Second Miltia's cruisers, modified."

Helmer shook his head. "No, this has to be something unique to the Kukai Foundation, a ship no one else has."

Jr. glanced down, thinking about that. "Yeah. It would have to be, wouldn't it?"

"In any case," Helmer went on, "do you have any idea for a name?"

The redhead nodded. "Well, it's not set in stone or anything, but I keep thinking of the name _Durandal_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jr.'s being adopted but being named after Gaignun never made much sense to me, feeling he ought to have some given name of his own, so I decided to just gloss over it.


	16. Budding

**Chapter 16: Budding**

Jr. hit delete and sighed.

When Helmer had suggested a ship unique to the Foundation, Jr. had accepted the idea readily enough. Now he was having second thoughts. The further he got with a design the less it appealed to him. They were too small, too bulky, too Federation, too slow, too something. He had mountains of information on battleship design, but it didn't seem to be helping much.

He pushed himself out of his seat and headed for the balcony. The view was mostly construction, but there were hints of what the colony would become. There was a haze of activity where Gaignun's lake would be. Jr.'d only heard about it a few days ago; now he could barely wait to see it finished. Odd, that. A couple of weeks ago, the Kukai Foundation was Gaignun's pet project, but now Jr. (was he already getting used to the name?) felt just as possessive and protective of the blossoming colony.

Though perhaps not as possessive and protective as he was of the _Durandal_. His ship had to be perfect.

His ship.

Jr. leaned on the railing and looked unseeing at the street below him. Helmer had said the _Durandal_ should be unique to the Foundation, but had he only meant that in terms of the ship's design? Or was there something more to the suggestion? Admittedly Jr. started having trouble when he tried to fit everything he wanted in. By the time he got all the features in, the design was thousands of meters long. You couldn't dock a ship like that.

Or could you?

All right, what he wanted wasn't simply a battleship, but an everythingship.

He went back inside.

* * *

"So where do you want to go next?"

Mary pondered her sister's question. For several days they'd left the hotel in the morning to explore the Foundation. They'd seen the docks, several interesting shops, the site of the intended lake, and the library Gaignun told them not to tell Jr. was being built. There was still a lot to see, but most of it seemed to involve a great deal of waiting. To be honest Mary was feeling a little homesick for Mitrei's green spaces. Most of the plants here were spread out in small containers, not enough to surround oneself with. Even the parks were still being developed.

That decided her. "Let's go see if that park's changed any," she suggested.

Shelley looked at her. "You do realize it's probably still a sea of dirt like it was four days ago, right?"

"I know," Mary replied. "But it might not be. Come on, if nothing's changed you choose where we go next, all right?" That said she grabbed Shelley's hand and dragged her along.

* * *

Instead of continuing with his ship designs Jr. chose to close out the program and check out the news feeds.

It took a while to sift through the flood of information. There was criminal news, cultural news, commercial news, military news, scientific news--he'd decided to focus on the last two categories, but there was still a lot to absorb. He let his eyes drift along the headlines.

Ah, here was something. Apparently Hyams Heavy Industries had developed a scaled-down version of an AMWS for anti-Gnosis combat. Small enough to fit in even a ship's corridor, it would be loaded with a DSSS sensor to pinpoint an attacking Gnosis's contact--or Klein--point. So what would these things be called? Ah, AGWS. He wondered if the Durandal's auto-tech hangar would become an AGWS hangar. Maybe both?

He slouched in his seat. The Gnosis had been a growing problem since their appearance six years ago. Publicly they were considered little more than a rumor, but the Federation's military and scientific communities, along with various civilian organizations, were racing against the clock to find some way to combat the ghostly entities. Rumors would soon give way to hard facts. It wouldn't be that long before the words "Gnosis threat" were a common dinner-table topic.

So he'd have to make the Durandal effective against Gnosis, too. Well, that would be--

He stopped.

A series of images had been flickering past on the right side of the screen, mostly unheeded. It changed now to an image of a group of scientists ranged on the front steps of a long white building. A group of scientists . . . and a little girl. He stared.

Sakura.

But no, Sakura was dead. He'd been there. He looked closer.

The girl was partially obscured by one of the scientists, and her hair and eye were the wrong colors, but he knew the shape of that eye, the sweep of that jaw. So this was Sakura's little sister, the one she'd asked him to look after. Jr. winced at that thought. After the Conflict had come to a close he'd tried to pretend that none of it had ever really happened. He hadn't kept his promise. What would she think of him now? He curled up in the chair and stared bleakly at the image.

Jr. read the story in full, hoping for some clue about the girl. Apparently Dr. Juli Mizrahi had established the Mizrahi Phenomenon Boundaries Research Center in an effort to develop effective countermeasures against the Gnosis. But there was no word about the little girl in the picture. She looked worried, if Jr. was any judge. Maybe she wasn't supposed to be in the shot.

He ran a search on Juli Mizrahi. He knew she was one the founding members of the Subcommittee on Close Encounters, but beyond that he hadn't kept track. Almost unwillingly he looked up her personal data. There it was: one daughter: MOMO Mizrahi. He tapped MOMO's name.

The info was sparse in the extreme. She was listed as an "Observational Realian" and had Dr. Mizrahi listed as her mother, and that was all. He wondered if censorship was indicated, or simply a personal shyness on the girl's part.

He tagged the original story with a request for related news, then shut off the screen.

He really needed some fresh air.

* * *

As it turned out both girls were right. The park was still mostly a sea of dirt, but now there were several trees spreading their branches overhead. They watched as a mature elm was lowered with feather delicacy into a large depression in the soil. Once it was down a group of landscapers began to scurry around, covering the roots with soil. They worked quickly and efficiently, though they were working carefully enough to have been handling a newborn.

"Well, that's it for those," a cheerful voice said from behind them. They turned to see one of the landscapers, a brown-skinned mid-thirties woman with her dark hair in an untidy knot at her neck.

"That's it? You mean you're all done for today?" Mary looked appalled. It wasn't even very far into the afternoon.

The woman waved her hands in reassurance. "Oh no no, I meant the trees are done being transplanted. Well, _these_ trees are. There's still the grass to lay down, shrubs to plant, the paths to lay out. . . . Actually, I'd better get back to work while the day cycle is still on."

"Couldn't you work at night, too?" Shelley asked.

"Oh sure. A lot of the non-vegetative work--like setting up the light posts--is done after hours, but when you're working with plants it's best to move to their schedule. Before I forget: I'm Rachelle."

The girls introduced themselves. "So what are you planting?" Mary wanted to know.

"Well, today I'm focusing more on groundcover." Rachelle pointed to a gentle slope not too far distant. "I'm going to put ornamental grasses all over the side of that little hill there. If I've got time I'll plant some alyssum and bacopa, too."

The girls stared. It was an expanse easily three times as big as their hotel suite. "That's going to take you forever," Mary breathed.

Rachelle smiled. "Well, I will have some help," and the girls saw a few more people headed for the little hillside. "Want to pitch in?" she asked them.

Mary and Shelley brightened at the request. "Sure!"


	17. Imbalance

**Chapter 17: Imbalance**

Ostensibly Gaignun was having a private conversation with his ailing father, but in fact was doing nothing of the sort. Instead he was wondering what he'd gotten himself into. When he'd had the idea of converting the Foundation into a full scale city, he hadn't realized the sheer magnitude of the endeavor. And the project kept getting more and more ambitious. Even so, he'd never yet regretted his efforts.

_. . . Gaignun?_

Jr.'s voice in his mind was so quiet as to be near inaudible. Gaignun sat bolt upright in his seat, alarmed at the tone. _What's wrong?_ he demanded.

There was silence. Then: _I found Sakura's little sister._

Gaignun let go a breath and stared at nothing. _Where are you?_

_I'm in Sector 4, near the older overpass._

_I'll be right there._

* * *

As Jr. was sitting forlornly on a low pedestrian-vehicular traffic barrier, and as he was now known as Gaignun's adopted son, people stopped to ask if he was all right. So he smiled and said he was fine, hoping that would be enough to make them go away. He wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone just then.

In the distance a dark speck resolved itself into a tall, slim figure in black slacks and a sage green button-down shirt: Gaignun. Jr. waited until his brother was only a few feet away before he got down from the barrier. "You didn't really need to come all this way," he said.

Gaignun looked at him. "Yes, I did." He looked around; it was mostly industrial offices that lined the street front. "Do you want to talk here, or. . . ?"

Jr. shook his head. "Let's just walk." He started in the opposite direction from the one Gaignun had approached by.

There was no word spoken for several moments. As they reached the end of the block, Jr. turned the corner and stopped, staring miserably at the ground. "I never even tried to find her." He looked up when he felt Gaignun's hand on his shoulder.

The black-haired man smiled sadly. "I didn't make much effort, either," he confessed.

"I promised Sakura I'd look after her mother and sister, and six years later the only reason I know MOMO exists is because of some random UMN article," Jr. muttered scornfully.

"MOMO?" Though Gaignun already suspected who that was.

Jr. kicked at nothing. "Sakura's sister. She's listed as Juli Mizrahi's daughter. Apparently she's an Observational Realian. Nobody seems to know anything more. . . . Gaignun, I don't know what I'm supposed to _do_."

They started walking again. "Do you want to see her?" Gaignun asked.

"I know I should," Jr. said after a while. "But how can I? 'Oh, hi. I promised your dead big sister I'd look after you and your mother, but it's taken me half a decade to get around to it.' On the other hand part of me wishes I'd never seen that story." By the end his voice could barely be heard.

Once again Gaignun laid a hand on Jr.'s shoulder, this time to halt him. "Don't do this to yourself. Dr. Mizrahi didn't try to contact us, either. Even if we weren't very public for the first few years, she could've contacted Helmer. She didn't; he would have told us. But after Sakura died, you and Dr. Mizrahi seeing each other hurt too much." Jr. tensed under his hand. "Sakura was my friend, too, but I know she was something special to you."

Jr. was still. "But I should have--"

"Maybe. But that doesn't mean you can't start looking after them now. And you can look after them from a distance, if you'd rather."

Jr. shifted so that Gaignun would lift his hand, but the look he gave him was steadier. "All right." He drew in a breath. "All right."

They began to walk in an easier silence.

* * *

Later the two of them were back in Gaignun's office. Jr. had regained most of his equilibrium and was tapping on his connection gear. "Hey, Gaignun?" he said after a while.

"Yes?" Gaignun looked up from the file in front of him.

"So I've been thinking about the _Durandal_ ," Jr. began. "At first I was just thinking of something like a standard attack vessel, but that won't do. This ship's supposed to be able to take on U-TIC anywhere, but who's to say they're all we'll come up against? If nothing else, there're the Gnosis to consider."

Gaignun's eyes narrowed in thought. "So what you're saying is that the _Durandal_ will have to be ready for anything."

"You got it," Jr. drawled. "And it'll have to be big--almost a colony in its own right. The trouble would be docking something like that. But I was thinking, if we kept the design simple and used the Foundation's central shaft as the _Durandal's_ docking bay, it might be doable."

Gaignun considered that. The central shaft extended through all the lower levels of the colony up to the dome. "How much wider were you thinking of?"  
Jr. thought a moment. "Maybe a couple hundred meters."

"That's going to play hell with the dock access. At least we don't have any construction projects in that area. --You mentioned keeping the design simple. Do you have anything in mind yet?"

"Maybe." Jr. opened a file and turned the connection gear to face Gaignun. "The Durandal of legend was an unbreakable sword, so I just went with that."

The design was a simple sketch. For the most part it was long and narrow, tapering to a point at one end. The other end was considerably wider and seemed to house the ship's propulsion units, gate jump and power generators, and the lifesupport system. Gaignun had to admit it didn't look like anything else in either the Federation or the Immigrant Fleet.

He wondered if Jr. realized it also looked like something else besides a sword, but kept the observation to himself. Now was not the time.

"I think this could work," he said. "Though you might want to move the lifesupport systems further from the jump generators."

Jr. nodded. "It was the basic shape I wanted to work on. Details we can get to later. And one other thing." He was pretty sure everyone involved already knew this, but he wanted it to be certain. "I want command."

Gaignun looked at him sharply. "Of course. Wasn't this already understood?"


	18. Assertive

**Chapter 18: Assertive**

The noise from the Kukai Foundation's shipyard was deafening, but at the moment there was nowhere else Jr. really wanted to be. After nearly half a year's work the _Durandal_ was beginning to take shape. Or shapes, at least. The shipyard was littered with hull segments, giving the impression an entire battle fleet had come in for an overhaul. Yet they were all one ship.

He kept his distance from the actual work, however, knowing better than to get in the way of the mechanics. So he watched from a distance, and frequently.

Still, it hadn't been easy. Problems kept cropping up. When they ran a simulation of the _Durandal_ docking, they learned both the ship's jump generator and the one installed on the Foundation would produce mutual interference at a potentially catastrophic level. Gaignun hadn't been happy at the suggestion to remove the one equipped on the Foundation in favor of the ship's generator, but had finally agreed. Fortunately it had sold for enough money to pay for a new model generator for the _Durandal_ as well as a shielding system for the Foundation. Gaignun had taken it hard, though. For him it was like seeing a friend get amputated.

They also noticed something . . . else . . . when they ran the simulation. How had McCall put it? Ah yes, Jr. remembered. "Hot spaceship on space station action." At first Jr. had been offended but eventually admitted to the humor in the situation. Gaignun had almost choked on his coffee.

Yet progress was being made. Jr. saw someone approaching from the corner of his right eye and turned.

Warren McCall had packed on a few more pounds and had lost more than a few hairs off the top of his head since Gaignun had met him two and a half years ago, but he was still as friendly--and as knowledgeable--as ever. The maintenance chief waved a hand in greeting before coming to a stop. "Good to see you coming around again. How've you been holding up?"

It wasn't an idle question. Officially, Soze Kukai had died in his sleep a month ago. Four days later there'd been a memorial service and cremation for the wealthy industrialist. His son had been listed as the executor of his estate, and while Gaignun had in truth been in complete control of the Foundation almost from the start, there were appearances to maintain.

"We're doing okay," Jr. said. "We kind of saw it coming, after all. But I think Gaignun's taking it harder than he'll admit."

McCall sobered up at that. "Yeah. I was sorry to hear about Mr. Kukai. I always thought he was something of a grouch, but he did right by this place." He looked at the bustling shipyard. "Did you know him well?"

"Not really. I don't think he and Gaignun got along that well, so I only met the old man a couple of times."

For a moment a shrill grinding sound made conversation impossible. When it ceased McCall said, "I notice you call your dad Gaignun."

Jr. shrugged. "He's been a friend since I was really little, so I've known him as Gaignun for a long time. It'd be way too weird to start calling him my dad. But I was glad when he took me in after my folks died." He looked away from McCall, a little unsettled at how glibly he could lie to the man.

"Well, I'm glad you're both doing all right. --Oh yes, there was something I wanted to tell you." Jr. looked at him curiously. "Seems Shijima double-bounced the last metal shipment again."

Jr.'s jaw clenched. "Damn it, this is getting old. I better let Gaignun know." He turned to head back to the administrative district. "Oh yeah--thanks for the heads up, Warren."

* * *

"Tell them I flatly refuse to pay for their mistake."

"I'm very sorry sir, but it clearly states in your contract that all shipments will be paid for in full--"

Gaignun cut the Realian off. "All shipments ordered, yes. But not beyond that. I have to say I'm very disappointed in Shijima's treatment of its clientele. I was led to believe that the company had a policy of integrity and honesty, but so far your policy seems to be to hurt your clients through gross error and then profit off of them. This is the third time this has happened, and quite frankly I find it alarming."

The Realian was unresponsive for a moment as she considered her options. Obviously the Kukai Foundation's new Representative Trustee wouldn't be easily deterred. "Would you like me to connect you with one of my superiors?" she asked. Gaignun confirmed this. "Then please remain on the line. One moment please." Her image vanished, replaced with Shijima Steel Manufacturing's logo.

_Hey Gaignun, I've got some bad news for you. . . ._ Jr.'s voice echoed across his mind.

_Would it have anything to do with Shijima's latest shipment increase?_

Jr. was abashed. _Oh, so you already know about that?_

_It's being dealt with. But thanks for the warning._

A grin flashed across Jr.'s thoughts. _Thank Warren. He's the one who told me._

_I'll be sure to. And now, back to work._ Gaignun cut the connection and readied himself as Shijima's logo became the face of a gaunt, thin-lipped old man. The man's expression was openly contemptuous.

"It appears you've called our company's policy into question, young man." Open scorn colored the word young.

_So he has a problem with my youth. Perhaps I can use that to my advantage._ "I have. I assume your secretary has explained the situation?" Gaignun kept his gaze steady. He'd have liked to simply hypnotize the man into good behavior, but he needed face-to-face contact or a telepathic link for his power to work.

The man snorted. "This situation is well within the terms of our contract. I see no reason why we need to waste time discussing this. Of course, I would have to expect this from an upstart, wouldn't I?"

_So it comes out._ "Upstart I may be, but extortionist _I_ am not." The man recoiled. "As a matter of fact, this situation is not in our contract, which states that payment only applies to orders made by the client, not increases made by the company. Actually, thanks to the third increase we don't have to pay you for the next shipment." Gaignun smiled. "Believe me, I've read the contract in full. Twice."

Now the man looked ashen. "Fine, fine," he mumbled. "I'll have a word with the company."

Gaignun nodded. "Thank you for your time, Mister. . . ." he trailed off, waiting for the man to supply his name.

"Ishii." The screen went ungraciously blank.

* * *

Not long after he relayed McCall's warning Jr. headed for the Foundation's central library.

Open for nearly four months, the stories and resource materials it housed were mostly optically stored, though there were a few shelves filling up with paper books. This Jr. happily encouraged, even if most of them were copies rather than true Lost Jerusalem originals. There was something about a real book, not just text on a screen, that spoke to him. Yet he could never quite explain how it was that printed words set off fireworks in his mind.

He paused just inside the entrance, both to let his eyes adjust to the change in brightness and to enjoy the anticipation. Maybe they'd gotten hold of a new book since he'd been there last. . . .

"I thought it had been destroyed," he heard a voice say in restrained excitement from behind one of the bookshelves.

A female voice answered. "Luckily no. It was found in a storage facility on Fifth Jerusalem five years ago. Apparently it had been removed from Felicia Jordan's estate before it burned down, but had been forgotten until recently."

Jr. stepped around the shelf, disbelieving yet absolutely sure he knew to whom the first voice belonged. He was right. In front of him, clutching a hardbacked copy of Rudyard Kipling's _The Jungle Book_ , was a mid-teenaged boy with brown skin, blue eyes and silver hair.

"chaos?"


	19. Reactions

**Chapter 19: Reactions**

It'd been six years since Jr. had seen him last, but chaos appeared unchanged. The two of them sat in comfortable chairs near one of the library's tall windows and chatted affably. Even though Jr. had only known chaos for a short time before they'd gone their separate ways, there was something about the silver-haired boy that made him seem like an old and dear friend. Apparently chaos had been helping out at a Realian nursery for the past few years, but they had enough counselors and coordinators now that they didn't need him as much anymore.

"I heard about this place when it was first opened, but I didn't know you and Nigredo were running it," chaos said. "When I heard, I had to come. You seem to be doing well for yourselves."

Jr. nodded. "Mostly this place has been Gaignun's project--that's what we've been calling Nigredo--but I got involved a few months ago. I have to admit I like seeing this place grow."

chaos glanced at him. "A new name, huh? How about you?"

"Gaignun, Jr." Jr. frowned. "Since he grows, and I don't, it's only going to take a few years before no one believes we're brothers, so officially he's listed as my father." He really wished chaos didn't look so amused.

chaos let the embarrassed silence go on a moment longer. He vividly remembered how deeply wounded the boys had been when he and Canaan had turned them over to Helmer's care, so it was good to see Rubedo--or rather, Jr.--rattled by something as innocuous as a name. The redhead seemed to be healing well. "Oh, I almost forgot to ask," chaos said suddenly, changing the subject. "I heard there are some big projects going on here."

Jr.'s face lit up. "Oh yeah! There's a new type of ship being constructed, and we've been building a lake for a while. Plus we're trying to set up a series of historical districts based on Lost Jerusalem, but that's still mostly in the planning stage."

"A lake?" chaos asked. There'd been references to the ongoing project in several Net magazines but very little concrete data. "Like a giant pool?"

"No, no," Jr. said, hopping out of his chair and grabbing chaos by the hand. "Like a real saltwater lake with fish and everything. Really almost like a mini-ocean. Come on." He all but dragged chaos toward the front desk to have one of the librarians hold The Jungle Book for him. It was an original and couldn't leave the library. Then the two of them were out the door.

* * *

Transport to the lake took nearly an hour due to the Foundation's massive size. chaos showed every sign of enjoyment as they passed residential areas, parks, commercial zones and construction sites. "It almost looks like a city on a planet," he said as they passed what looked like a grassy hillside. He pointed to another green slope in the distance. "That almost looks like a mountain range."

"Yeah," Jr. nodded. "Gaignun got the idea from Shelley. She said it would be no fun living somewhere that was just flat everywhere, and this way we can use the inside of the mountains for things like environmental support systems." He'd told chaos about Helmer's adopted daughters shortly after they'd boarded the train.

chaos smiled. "Clever."

"Thanks. Oh, we're almost there." Jr. grinned privately to himself when he saw the look on chaos's face. The lakebed took up a good fifteenth of the colony's surface area, and it _was_ a lakebed, with mud and rocks and bits of vegetation growing under a shallow layer of water. Environmental bugs drifted in a thick haze over the entire surface like a shimmering gold cloud.

It took a moment for chaos to find his voice. "I'm amazed I haven't heard more about this. This is incredible."

"Thing is, it's such a big project we don't want a lot of media attention until it's done. You know how it goes: you build up a lot of attention and then your project gets pushed back and by the time it's done no one cares anymore. So the major news organizations have agreed to say as little as possible until we're almost done. Of course, anyone can come here and see this for themselves if they want to." The train reached the platform and they disembarked.

Workers smiled and waved as Jr. led chaos to one of the observation zones. As attractive and outwardly cheerful as he was, Jr. had become popular on the Foundation. From here the view was even more impressive. "See those?" Jr. pointed to a line of small protrusions in the slope of the lakebed. "As long as those work right they'll make waves. Pretty soon we'll be bringing in water from Second Miltia and filling the lake up. Then we'll start stocking it with fish and other creatures."

chaos let himself imagine the completed lake before he turned his gaze away. "So what brought this about?"

"The lake or the Foundation?" Jr. leaned against the railing of the viewing deck. "Well, ultimately U-TIC. They've been rearming themselves since the Conflict ended, if slowly. We've been putting a dent in that, but we both know they'll try to find some way back to Old Miltia and the Zohar eventually, if they haven't found one already. Then the whole mess will start up again. Of course, officially the war is over, but we can't sit on our hands. Thus, this huge money-generating space city. The lake? Partly for practical reasons--it'll work as a food source as well as boosting morale among the citizens. But I think mostly we just _want_ it."

chaos nodded slowly, absorbing Jr.'s answer. "I see."

"Uh-huh."

* * *

It was quiet in the library, the main sounds being the click of computer keys or the rustle of printed books. Occasionally snatches of muted conversations could be heard now and again, but these were rare. Shelley hardly noticed them, hearing instead her own breathing and the thudding of her heart. Could it really have been so simple? She stared at the rows of nearly identical images on the screen and thought back to an earlier conversation.

* * *

Gaignun's office, organized and elegant, was a reflection of the young man who occupied it. A small communication screen sat at the center of his desk, with a UMN phone to the right. On the lefthand side flimsies rested in a stack of shallow trays. Against one wall a table was surrounded by two couches, a less formal place to conduct business. A large window afforded a splendid view of the growing metropolis, and in one corner sat a tall, potted tree. Yes, one had to admit the space suited Gaignun admirably.

The black-haired man had been reclining on one of the couches, savoring a cup of coffee. "Have you found anything yet?" He hadn't needed to clarify.

"Nothing." Shelley'd set down her own cup. "Sometimes when I'm not trying I see an image in my head so clearly: the door to the apartment, Mom's car, a sign on a fence. Then when I try to search for them the image goes all shaky and I don't know what I'm looking for."

Gaignun had thought about this. "When you mentioned a sign was that just an example or a sign you really remember?"

"I _think_ I remember it." She'd shaken her head in frustration. "But I'm just not sure."

There'd been a brief silence as Gaignun stood up and went to his desk. "Come over here," he'd said, pulling his connection gear and a lightpen from a drawer. He'd switched the device on and cleared the screen before handing her both items. "Try drawing it."

Shelley'd clutched the connection gear to her stomach. "But I'm not even sure I remember--"

"Your memory might be more accurate than you think," Gaignun'd pointed out. "Maybe you've been going at this the wrong way. If you can figure out what that sign you remember is for, maybe you can find out where it was."

"If I knew where--" Numbly Shelley'd sat down on one of the couches and stared at nothing for a time before she'd finally taken up the pen and begun drawing. "It was cartoonish," she'd said slowly, trying to retain the picture in her mind. "Water, with waves like upside down arches. Sort of . . . green. A fish, jumping out--no, splashing back in. Black and white striped. And it was pulling a long white banner behind it." She'd looked at the image she'd drawn. "That's close, I suppose. I sort of remember some orange, too, but orange what?"

Gently Gaignun had taken the pen back out of her hand. "That's probably enough to work with. Just focus on finding this," he'd said, tapping the sketch on the screen. "You're focusing on the Kappa region?"

Shelley'd nodded. "I can't believe it never occurred to me to look for this."

"Maybe it was a little too obvious?" Gaignun had suggested.

Ruefully, Shelley'd smiled. "Probably."

"By the way," Gaignun had said a moment later, "it's good to have you back." The girls had been on Second Miltia for the previous couple of weeks to celebrate Shelley's fifteenth birthday. It was difficult: everyone knew just how close the sisters were to the brothers, but Helmer still missed his girls. So they compromised and headed to Second Miltia every now and again since Helmer was essentially shackled to the planet he represented.

"It's good to be back. Well," Shelley'd looked down, "I do sort of wish I was back there, too."

Gaignun had smiled. "Once I get this support foundation up and running I'll see about getting this place back in Miltian space. I wouldn't mind seeing him myself." That looked like a promise he could keep. The offices for the Galaxy Species Preservation Act Support Foundation had been shaping up nicely.

Shelley'd nodded. "I think we'd all like that."

* * *

Opening her eyes Shelley focused on the screen once more. There were rows of small pictures almost identical to the one she'd drawn in Gaignun's office--almost, but not quite. She'd focused solely on signs for places like schools, children's recreational facilities, daycare centers and parks, dismissing the other tens of thousands of examples her search had brought up, most of which had been children's drawings. Now she had some two hundred images to search through.

Almost two hours later, on the seventy-fourth example, she found a match.


	20. Discovery

**Chapter 20: Discovery**

Construction noises floated in through the open window in Gaignun's office. There were always new roads being laid down, new apartments, new businesses, new parks, new everything. He swiveled his chair around to look at the view; a theater was going up a few blocks away. It looked about half finished. Gaignun did feel a certain amount of compunction: the Kukai Foundation's growing citizenry were largely unaware of the true motive behind the colony's creation. But though they were unaware of the clandestine war against U-TIC, he was determined they should at least have somewhere beautiful to live in. He turned back to the computer screen.

It'd been fortunate that Gaignun had been so directly involved in the Foundation's development for the last two and half years. People were used to seeing him in charge, so Gaignun taking full control of his father's empire bothered no one, even if he was still a few weeks shy of nineteen. Even so, it was going to take a little getting used to: he could no longer buy time by passing on a notification or request to his fictitious parent.

He looked through the few remaining flimsies in his "IN" tray. Two were reports on the upcoming New Year's festivities, three were condolences of varying degrees of sincerity, but the remaining one was a report on the status of the _Durandal's_ docking bay. Things seemed to be progressing well. He opened the attached image of the bay's schematic, then his eyes narrowed. There was something about the layout of the access points. Gaignun closed his eyes, mentally overlaying the Foundation's ever-changing streetmap with the schematic in front of him. Ah, that was it.

The access points almost perfectly matched up to the main streets in each region. Gaignun thought about this for a few minutes.

He'd been worried for a while about evacuation procedures. The colony was designed with a north-south orientation, with the general dock access to the northwest of the colony. Governmental, military and commercial access was to the northeast. Funneling the citizens to either point in an emergency would take too long, but if everyone simply converged on the center of the Foundation and relocated into the _Durandal_. . . .

It would put a massive strain on the battleship, but with Jr.'s design it looked like it would work. He'd have to talk to Jr. about this as soon as possible. Gaignun spent the next half hour clearing things up before he opened the link.

_Nice timing_ , he heard Jr.'s voice in his mind. _chaos is here._ Jr. didn't need to elaborate. Even if Gaignun had only met him briefly, chaos wasn't the sort of person one forgot after any length of time. _We're at the lake._

_All right_ , Gaignun responded. _There was something I wanted to talk to you about._

* * *

That was _it_ , Shelley realized as she stared at the picture on the screen.

Gaignun had been right: she had remembered more clearly than she'd realized. A black-and-white-striped angelfish towed a long white banner through the air as it leapt back into a green sea. Small orange goldfish swam in a happy school to the right of the angelfish. The words "HCA Primary Educational Center" were emblazoned on the banner. Shelley closed her eyes against a quick flash of memory-- _the car pulling into the school's parking lot, the smiling woman approaching as her mother stepped out of the vehicle, the sight of her mother collapsing just as a second person's hand reached through the car window and covered her mouth and nose_ \--before she accessed the data on the school itself.

The hype was about what she expected. People who enrolled their children (between the ages of five and twelve) could expect those children to become overwhelmingly successful and productive members of society. There may have been some modicum of truth to the claim, however. Almost fifteen thousand planets played host to the educational centers. Two hundred and fifty-six of those were on Kappa region planets. Twenty-four of those had been established after her abduction.

Shelley scrolled down the list of planetary names. One caught her eye.

_Penelope_.

She should have started at the top of the list and worked her way down systematically, but there was something about that name that meant something to her. With trembling fingers she opened the planet's main UMN site. Much of the data that had been lost during the imaginary machine cluster crash all those years ago had been restored, but not everything. What if this was another dead end?

Information flowed across the screen, everything from weather patterns to commercial opportunities to political affiliations. There was also a citizens' directory. Shelley typed her name in and was met with the words "No Match Found." She leaned back in her chair, then moved forward to type in "Godwin." The result was the same: "No Match Found."

But there were any number of Goodwins, Godwings, Goldwins, Godwills or other variations, she realized with growing hope. With renewed enthusiasm she continued her search.

* * *

"Do you need anything else?"

Mary looked up from her soft drink at Mayumi's smiling face. Shaking her head, she murmured a quick "I'm okay" before turning back to her soda. Silently she stirred her beverage with the paper umbrella Caito had added with thoughtful good humor. She was the only twelve-year-old in the IRONMAN Bar and Grill at the moment, conspicuous among the adults enjoying their lunches.

"You sure?" Mayumi's smile softened. "You look like you could use someone to talk to."

Some of Mary's hair fell into her soda as she shook her head. "Really, I don't want to bother. . . ."

"Don't worry, it's time for my break anyway. Well, maybe a few minutes early." With that Mayumi hopped up onto the barstool next to Mary. "So, what's with the face?"

For a long moment Mary was silent, wondering if she should confide in the woman next to her. Taking a sip of her soda, she decided to go for it. "Well, there's . . . this boy." Inwardly she cringed at the admission, not noticing the shine in Mayumi's eyes or the growing smile on her face.

"Oh?" Mayumi managed to smooth her facial expression into something like polite curiosity.

Mary nodded. "Uh-huh. And I don't know why. I mean, I've known him for a long time and he's always been special to me, but now it's . . . it's _different_ special."

"Ah, the first crush," Mayumi said dreamily, laughing softly as Mary started to blush furiously.

The blonde twirled the paper umbrella between her fingers. "He's smart and sweet and fun and he's always taken good care of me--"

"And with that lovely red hair how could you not be attracted to him?" When Mayumi said this Mary had been about to take another sip of her drink; instead she did a spit take directly into the straw, causing the red liquid to spill over the side of the glass and onto the bartop. Sheepishly Mayumi apologized.

Mary dropped her head into her hands. "You know?" And if Mayumi knew then probably others did too, maybe even Jr., and. . . . She looked up from the kaleidoscope of inner misery as Mayumi touched her arm.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about that. If you're worried about him knowing, I don't think he does."

"But you do!" Mary wailed in frustration.

Mayumi tilted her head in admission. "Well, I do have some twenty-eight years of people-watching to draw on. Okay," she said after a few seconds. "So if I've got this right, you've been friends with Gaignun, Jr. for a long time, yes?" Mary nodded. "But now he's really special to you." Another nod. "And I'm guessing you're worried if you tell him he won't want to be your friend anymore."

Mary cringed again. "That's about it."

"Oh, sweetie," Mayumi said, pulling Mary into a hug. "I understand. I really do. It's easy for me to say 'just go for it!' but I remember my first crush. I wanted to be around him all the time and I tried to avoid him all the time, too. The only thing I can tell you is he sounds like he's worth the effort of telling. But that's up to you." She looked up. "Uh-oh, break's over. Listen, just wait a moment and I'll get this cleaned up and bring you a new soda."

Feeling more cheerful than she had all day, Mary smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

Gingerly Shelley held the flimsy by her fingertips, afraid that any firmer grip might cause it to evaporate somehow. A face like an older version of Mary stared back at her from the upper left corner.

Shalimar Gottwein had been twenty-eight when she'd been assaulted and her two daughters abducted from the parking lot of the HCA Primary Educational Center. Security cameras had been tampered with and there were no reliable clues to follow in finding her missing children. Shalimar sank into depression shortly afterward, divorcing her husband--Mary's father--within the year. Two years later she had attempted suicide on the anniversary of the abduction. Unsuccessful, she had been admitted to the care of the Ithaca Psychiatric Facility, were she currently remained.

When Shelley had begun her search, she hadn't expected to find . . . this. Somehow she thought the woman they'd been stolen from would be same as she'd been all those years ago. It never occurred to her that their kidnapping would have scarred anyone else.

She really needed to talk to Mary about this.


	21. Imminent Decision

**Chapter 21: Imminent Decision**

Halfway to the lake Gaignun heard Jr.'s voice in his mind again. _Change of plans. Meet us at Wells Square._ Gaignun reset the destination alarm and went back to enjoying the view.

Wells Square was a ten minute walk from the lake. It was located at a T intersection, and was designed to make use of excess space between two large commercial buildings. The reason it wasn't simply another building was that there was an access to the district's electrical systems at the back of the square. So large planters had been added, followed by benches, lamps, and a strange sculpture that seemed at once to cave in on and expand out of itself. Jr. had read H. G. Wells's _The Time Machine_ years before, and said the sculpture reminded him of it, and so: Wells Square.

As he approached Gaignun spotted chaos and Jr. seated on a bench near the back of the square. They were talking animatedly, although Jr. seemed to be having some difficulty speaking around a large shaved ice, the redhead having an affinity for the frozen treat. Between them sat a tablet. Jr. picked it up with his free hand and waved Gaignun over with it. "You have to see this!"

Gaignun glanced at Jr. a moment, then ignored him. "chaos, it's good to see you again."

chaos looked up when he heard the greeting, a smile on his face. The last time he'd seen him Gaignun had been a child, and a gravely injured one at that. This tall young man was a far cry from the boy he'd last seen in a hospital bed. "Same to you. I was just showing Jr. a video I'd come across a couple of days ago."

Taking a moment to lick a trail of melted ice off his wrist, Jr. went back to waving the tablet. "Look look look!" He handed it to Gaignun, the video chaos had mentioned already running.

Two students at Bormeo University had designed a new energy-storage device. It involved two sections rotating around a central mass which held the main power supply. Each rotation restored the main power supply's energy expenditure by a significant amount. It wasn't a perpetual motion device--the power supply would eventually be used up--but it would extend the power source's output greatly.

"I want to put one of those--well, I guess two of those, since they come in pairs--on the _Durandal_ ," Jr. enthused. "I've already sent this over to the shipyard." He caught the shift of Gaignun's eyes toward chaos. _He knows what we are, and it's not like the_ Durandal _is a huge secret anyway_ , Jr. pointed out.

_True enough._

Gaignun sat down on the end of a nearby bench, facing the other two. "So has Jr. shown you the design he chose for his ship yet?"

chaos shook his head. "Not yet. He was going to but then he said something about the cost of the engines and that made me think of the video you just saw."

"It's quite impressive," Gaignun said, with a spark of mischief in his eyes that would've alarmed Jr. if the redhead hadn't been focused on his shaved ice. "May I?" He gestured toward the tablet, assuming it was chaos's since he didn't recognize it. chaos handed him the device and he accessed the _Durandal's_ design data. "As you can see it will be quite long--more than four thousand meters--when it's done. He says the _Durandal's_ name is taken from a legendary sword, but I suspect it's actually a word from one of Lost Jerusalem's many ancient languages meaning 'overcompensation.'" He was cut off by the sound of Jr. choking.

After a few thumps from chaos Jr. got control of himself again. "Sorry, some ice chips must've gone down the wrong way." _That wasn't funny, Gaignun. Just because it's long doesn't mean anything special. Besides, if I made it smaller it wouldn't do everything we want, and at least this way it can be securely docked with the Foundation._

_It was funny_ , Gaignun retorted. _But now that you mention it we really should show him the mock-up of the_ Durandal's _docking sequence._

_Don't you dare!_

* * *

"That's her?" Mary peered at the flimsy Shelley'd brought back, eyes wide with curiosity.

Shelley nodded. "It is. I'm sure of it."

Mary rolled over on her bed. They'd returned to their new quarters in the Residence once Shelley'd picked her up from the IRONMAN, feeling a need for privacy. "So what do we do now? Should we contact her?"

Shaking her head, Shelley replied with a soft, "I don't know." Perched on her own bed, she flopped backward. "Losing us hurt her so much. If we contacted her, and it made things worse--" Usually Shelley knew her own mind but now all her thoughts twisted around one another so that she could barely tell where one ended and another began.

"This really doesn't say much," Mary commented as she read everything the flimsy had to offer. "It says she lives at that Facility, but it doesn't say anything about how she _is_."

Shelley looked over at her sister. "I know. I want to tell her we're okay, too." She looked at the pillow she'd begun mangling. "But I . . . I don't want to leave Gaignun and Jr. and Helmer. They're our family now. What if we reached out to her, and she wanted us back? Wouldn't we owe it to her? She's our birth mother. And we're still minors."

"We don't have to decide what to do right now, do we?" Mary asked.

". . . I guess not," Shelley answered slowly, wondering if Mary was also looking around the room, thinking that their happy life might soon evaporate.

* * *

The stricken glance Jr. threw at his younger brother didn't go unnoticed by chaos, who thought it might be fun to ponder later on. He found the URTVs fascinating, a pair of living contradictions. His thoughts were cut off as Jr. hopped up from the bench in a burst of youthful energy. The childlike young man tugged on one of chaos's arms, pulling him upright.

Jr. grinned impishly. "Since I don't have anywhere special to be right now I want to show you around the Foundation."

Startled, chaos almost lost his balance as Jr. dragged him along. "What, the whole thing?"

"Well, no, just the interesting stuff. You've already seen the lake and the library, but there's still the antique shop and the historical districts we're setting up, and--" Jr.'s voice faded as he walked away, ticking off places on his fingertips.

chaos increased his speed to catch up with Jr. "You mentioned something about an antique shop?"

Following at a more leisurely pace Gaignun shook his head. "He's just hoping to find a new toy."

"Hey! The Winchester I bought last month is not a toy." Jr. scowled, then relented a moment later. "Well, I am hoping to get my hands on that Sam Elliott disc."

"Who's that?" chaos thought the name sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

Jr. grinned. "He's an actor from Lost Jerusalem. Did a lot of westerns. Tons of fun." He sped up. "Come on, now I'm worried someone else already got it."


	22. Settled In

**Chapter 22: Settled In**

It was silent as Jr. picked his way carefully through the unfinished corridors of the _Durandal_. Night had fallen over the Foundation like a blanket, bringing much of the colony to a halt. He'd found it easy enough to sneak into the construction zone then, when far fewer people were around to shoo him away.

He sat down on the edge of a piece of machinery, cautious enough to avoid anything that might be a power switch. For a while he let his mind drift, only keeping up a light mental block. He imagined the ship completed, crew moving through the corridors. Soldiers too. He thought about that. The Kukai Foundation was large enough to warrant its own, if limited, military. He knew the Foundation already had an established security force. Would they get their soldiers from there, or would they originate in Second Miltia? Probably both.

It'd been a slightly trying two months since he'd insisted on the newly invented energy maintainers. Designed in the shape of stylized wings, the new additions would push the _Durandal's_ completion back by almost a year. Jr. knew the energy wings were a good idea, but he wanted his ship done now. He reached over and traced the Vector logo on the wall panel. Now that had been a real coup, getting funding from the interstellar conglomerate.

There had of course been objections over a battleship being commanded by a twelve-year-old boy. Thankfully most of them had been quelled, both by Gaignun's (completely honest and aboveboard) persuasion and by his own stubborn personality.

Whatever his misgivings it was peaceful on the incomplete ship. With a yawn he leaned back and stared up at the overhead, eyes beginning to stay closed for longer than a blink.

* * *

Presently the Foundation's late night was Second Miltia's early morning.

"I see you've settled in nicely," Helmer commented to Gaignun, whose image was once again fixed to the communication screen in Helmer's study. In the background he could see signs of a tastefully furnished living space, mostly done in greens and browns. He was glad Gaignun had taken to his role as Representative Trustee, but it was hardly a surprise: Gaignun was a politician born.

Gaignun smirked. "It's been interesting. Anyway, what was it that you wanted to speak to me about?"

Helmer straightened slightly, his face turning grave as he made the transition from old friend to politician. "Two things. First, I don't know if you've heard this but there's been talk that U-TIC is planning to hunt down the Emulators Mizrahi left behind."

That caused Gaignun to reflect. When Old Miltia had been evacuated the Zohar Emulators had been taken aboard a Federation transport ship. Just as it had cleared the system and was approaching the nearest UMN column they'd . . . bolted, ripping through the ship's hull and scattering like dandelion seeds in a breeze. The transport hadn't been able to survive its hull being ripped apart by the escaping Emulators and everyone aboard, crew and passengers alike, had perished. Other ships had suffered equally grim fates as they'd fled the waves of Gnosis that had invaded the original Miltian system.

The Emulators had continued on a course of their own devising. No one in the panicking swarm of evacuees had been in any condition to take note of their headings.

"Some talk? You mean rumors?"

"Give me more credit than that. This is intelligence from several of my field agents."

Gaignun nodded his understanding. "I see. At the moment we have three ships that have been converted for light combat maneuvers, with a fourth being refitted. I'd like to keep one of the converted ships around in case, but the other two could act as scouts. Unfortunately it'll be difficult to do more until the _Durandal_ is completed. Still, it will probably be a while before they find the Emulators."

In all honesty Gaignun had been expecting this for some time. After the Conflict ended, and the Emulators had dispersed, the Federation Executive Committee had voted to place the Zohar Emulators under the jurisdiction of the newly formed Second Miltian government. It'd been clear at the time that few of them expected the Emulators to be found again, and if they were the Committee members felt they'd have a good chance at bullying Second Miltia's Representative into relinquishing control.

Helmer was proving difficult.

"You're probably right," Helmer agreed. "Though my warning was less for U-TIC and more for what they might stir up."

"You mean the Gnosis?"

"Indeed. I'm sure you remember where they were drawn to when they were pulled into our world almost seven years ago."

Gaignun's eyes narrowed in painful memory. "Towards the Song of Nephilim . . . and the Original." He thought of the anti-Gnosis detection systems and AGWS units newly installed on both the Foundation and the _Durandal_ , and had a terrible suspicion they wouldn't be enough. "You said there was a second reason you called."

Making a reach for something outside Gaignun's field of view, Helmer said, "That's right. I've been monitoring black market sales, and I noticed that Federation military-grade hardware is no longer showing up. Anywhere. For nearly three years they've been steadily disappearing from battle zones, but now it's stopped. Even the inferencing machines haven't come up with an explanation."

"That _is_ unsettling." Gaignun knew better than to dismiss the old soldier's instincts.

Helmer looked rueful. "I figured you might want a heads up."

"I appreciate it. I'll see what measures we can come up with." With that both screens thinned into nothingness.

* * *

The docks were the busiest area of the colony; no matter the time on the clock, incoming ships needed to be berthed. There was constant traffic on the docks, newly arrived crews seeking lodging and entertainment, docking techs headed for their next assigned spot.

"Yo chaos!" The dock manager's shout reverberated off the deck plates and chaos looked up from the terminal he'd been servicing with a wince. "How many times do I have to call you? Your shift ended almost twenty minutes ago. Pack it up and go already!"

chaos smiled sheepishly, giving the terminal a final tweak. "I must've lost track of the time."

"Yeah, right," the manager--one Chris Russell--grumbled in mock complaint. "You just want the overtime, admit it."

"Whatever you say," chaos said with a grin, used to Russell's comments. Packing up his tools, he stopped by the storage locker to drop them off. "So how much do you owe me this week?" he asked Russell as he went past. The dock manager rolled his eyes and waved him off.

As he walked to his apartment he reflected on the last couple of months. It'd been quite fascinating watching the two URTVs trying--and succeeding--to run a large colony, while the general public remained unaware of the truth behind the young directors. So he'd decided to find employment on the Foundation, though he was careful to choose work that wouldn't tie him down to any one place. And he'd felt the strange need to verify their safety. Perhaps it was simple instinct.

* * *

Jr. woke with a start a short while later, suddenly aware that he'd dozed off. Rotating a neck gone stiff he looked around, momentarily disoriented. _That's right. I decided to take a look at the_ Durandal _. Damn it, what time is it?_ Bleary-eyed and yawning, he slid off of the machine. It wouldn't do for someone to catch him napping in a construction zone, no matter what status he might have held.

As soon as the fog cleared from his mind he heard Gaignun's voice. _I'm glad you're finally awake. We might have some problems on our hands._

Jr. grimaced. _'Might have some problems' as in you're being cautious or 'might have some problems' as in we do have some problems?_

_The former._

_Oh good._

_But it could easily become the latter._

_Damn it!_


	23. New Year's Eve

**Chapter 23: New Year's Eve**

The harsh chirping of the alarm clock roused Gaignun from a light sleep. With a groan he turned and pulled the covers over his head in an effort to reduce the noise. The sound increased in volume and pitch until the clock's chirp became an inescapable whine. Conceding defeat, Gaignun reached over to silence the alarm then forced himself into a sitting position.

A single glance at the wall and the terminal mounted there revealed he had several new messages, no doubt related to the day's festivities. With a yawn he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached over to hit the "read" icon on the screen. As he'd expected a short series of notices came up, most of them last-minute approval requests.

Gaignun switched the terminal off and made his way toward the bathroom and the shower cabinet within, thinking dark thoughts about procrastinators. A few minutes later he stepped out, toweling himself dry before pulling on a pair of black dress slacks and a green silk shirt.

Though New Year's Eve was a grand occasion anywhere in the Galaxy Federation, Gaignun suspected the holiday would be truly magnificent on the Kukai Foundation. For months the colony had been quietly preparing for the event, anticipation sparking interest in the Foundation's growing number of tourists.

Yes, he thought, with much of the Foundation completed and packed almost to bursting with people, this would be a night to remember.

* * *

If the park had once been a sea of dirt it was now lush and green, inviting in its completion. People wandered aimlessly through the area, either citizens killing time before evening or tourists marveling at the park's seemingly natural quality. Yet despite the throngs it had a secluded feel, which suited Gaignun Kukai, Jr. just fine.

He reclined against a large tree trunk, a hardback novel in his hands, fully absorbed in the story. It was one of those idyllic moments he cherished, when he didn't have to worry about the status of the Foundation or the _Durandal_ , or wonder what U-TIC was up to. There was nothing but himself and the story.

His reverie was cut short by the sound of a gruff voice saying, "You sure you know where you're going? This doesn't look like the way to any bar I know of."

"Of course." Jr. heard chaos say. "Easier to cut through here to get to Sector 8. But are you sure you want to start drinking this early?"

"Damn right! It's New Year's Eve! Getting hammered is a time honored tradition."

"If you say so," chaos replied, sounding unconvinced. The voices faded as the pair moved away, leaving Jr. to wonder about the identity of chaos's companion.

Within moments he was once more engrossed in his novel.

* * *

Eventually artificial day gave way to artificial dusk. The giant panels that both collected energy and provided the colony with much of its light were growing dark--but only for a little while. Then luminous coils and tendrils began to appear, moving sinuously up the panels like vines growing at accelerated speeds. Slowly they began to take on colors--misty shades of blue and yellow and pink--then brightened over time.

At the same time the air began to glow with tiny lights. Simple "lantern" nanomachines had been refitted with colored bulbs, making them seem like so many multicolored fireflies. Great clouds of them floated through the air, above and around the celebrating throngs. Many of the Foundation's structures had been outlined with a clear reflecting substance that caught the light from the tiny lanterns, making almost the entire colony shine.

As if this weren't enough a special netting had been rigged near the top of the dome that would provide a stunning laser light show in the hours to come.

Gaignun had to admit that it was costly, but not as much as he'd feared--and he had a feeling it would be worth it.

* * *

That night the IRONMAN was filled to capacity. Loud, raucous laughter bounced off the walls as liquor-induced and often off-color jokes were tossed about. Alcohol splashed in glasses and on tables while platters, trays and plates of food were passed around. Music played on the overhead speakers, only to be drowned out by the laughter and conversations inside and the explosions, whirrings and cheers from without.

Mary grinned wide as she stared up at the top of the Foundation's dome, the designs of the light show dazzling her. She brushed her hair back to get a better view and realized a small cluster of nanolanterns had settled in the strands--and on her arms and shoulders as well. Looking around, she realized she wasn't the only one so covered; up and down the street the revelers literally glowed.

A moment later a cold glass was slipped into her hand; it was her usual red cream soda with a little fizzer spinning and sparkling in the bottom. "Thought I'd add a little something special for tonight," Mayumi said as she went past.

Nodding in thanks Mary sipped her drink and smiled, her attention turned to a group of people who were getting ready to set off some of the sonic fireworks, Shelley among them. For a moment she pondered joining them, couldn't think of any reason not to, then picked her way to the group. "Mind if I join in?" She had to yell to be heard.

"Not at all!" a young man shouted back, handing her a box of friction poppers. Within moments she was skidding the little orbs along the ground, laughing at the variety of results. Some clicked, others buzzed, one went boom-clang-boom and not a few made a sad whining noise. Someone passed her a container of "starburst" fireworks and she went through those as well, delighted by the radiant little pinwheels.

She felt someone nudge her. "Why aren't you with Jr.?" she heard, the voice coming from her right. Turning, she realized it was Mayumi again--a now rather flushed Mayumi who'd not only been serving drinks but enjoying them as well.

"Don't know where he got to!" Mary replied, setting off another firework.

"He's over at the bar, trying to get Caito to give him a little something to drink." A devilish gleam entered Mayumi's eyes. "Who knows, he might have succeeded. I have an idea. Wait here. If we're lucky maybe he's a little tipsy." With that she sped off.

* * *

"So, you're the little twerp chaos mentioned."

Jr. snorted into his drink at that. The man had introduced himself simply as Matthews, claiming the secret of his first name would accompany him to the grave. Matthews was blunt and abrasive; Jr. liked him immediately.

"Indeed I am," Jr. admitted, words slurring a bit. He had managed to get Caito to add something to his iced tea. Honestly it didn't taste all that great but interesting things were happening in his head. "So what else has he been sayi--" A shout of "Ten! Nine!" interrupted him. "Shit, the countdown!" He raced toward the door, nearly colliding with a woman coming in.

"Five!" He joined in as soon as he caught his breath. A moment later Mary was beside him, belting out the countdown at the top of her lungs.

"Four! Three! Two!" The various light displays had slowed down in anticipation.

"On--Eh!" At "One!" three things happened. The overhead lightshow, the nanolanterns and the giant panels all went into a visual frenzy. People cheered and cameras snapped off. And Mary leaned over and kissed Jr. on the cheek.

"Happy New Year's!"


	24. Allude to Predation

**Chapter 24: Allude to Predation**

Soft beeps and hums punctuated the quiet in the security station where chaos sat, his eyes darting periodically from the console in front of him to the entertainment screen set up against the wall. He smiled faintly at the celebration on display and tried to ignore the twinge of regret he felt at agreeing to join the security team working that night. chaos turned back to his monitor. He wasn't the only one who'd been added to the day's roster, he reminded himself.

"Wish they'd let us keep an 8-pack or two in here," another security tech grumbled. "Just think, out there is a veritable river of booze." He was a dour man in his late thirties who was more interested in the screen than his station. "It's New Year's yet the river's bone dry in here."

chaos turned to look at the man, a grin splitting his face for a brief second. "Just think what you'd have to pay if you spilled beer on your console."

The tech, Thomas Nguyen, groaned in horror. "Don't even suggest that. Just the touchpad costs more than I make in a--" His attention snapped back to the monitor as a distress signal sounded in the small room, loud and jarring. Tell-tales lit up on several monitors like the beginnings of plague. He swore as a female voice came from the speakers.

"This is the tradeship _Miranda_ # # und# attack! Coordinates are DX588, Y#04, Z82#. Please help!" Heavy static garbled the message.

The next few minutes were mayhem as people rushed about, tracing the origin of the signal and trying to secure an alternate channel to the tradeship. chaos's hands flew over the touchpad as his screen resolved into a three-dimensional mockup of the surrounding area for a good thousand lightyears, identifying trade routes leading to the Kukai Foundation.

"I got 'em!" someone shouted, voice lowering again. "This is Carol Mitsuda of the Kukai Foundation Security Division. _Miranda_ , do not engage your attackers. I repeat: do _not_ engage your attackers. We're dispatching a rescue team. Get in your escape pods immediately. Just sit tight; help's on the way."

" _Sit tight!_ " chaos could hear the outraged response where he sat. "We're being _shot at_ and you want us to _sit ti--_ "

" _Get in the goddamned escape pods!_ " Mitsuda roared back. The line was cut off. "Damn!"

Thomas Nguyen sighed. "I hope to God they listened to you."

* * *

Shock rooted Jr. to the spot, faced flushed bright crimson while all around him people cheered as the overhead displays exploded in a cacophony of color and sound. Yet the spectacle might well not have happened at all as Jr.'s attention was focused totally on Mary's kiss. It'd quite simply driven every thought from his mind. Unless it was the shot in his iced tea. He was pretty sure there'd only been one. A hand clapped him on the shoulder. He looked up, still slightly disoriented. "Looks like you'll be having good luck this year," Caito grinned.

"What?" Jr. murmured, blinking in wide-eyed confusion.

The grin widened further. "You don't know? A kiss on New Year's Eve is considered good luck. Here I thought you were a smart kid." Caito laughed as Jr. scowled at him and stalked away, then he turned to address the crowd. "Next round is on the house!" As he expected the bar was once again packed.

Jr. sat down on an unopened box of fireworks and shook his head. "Why did she. . . ?" Memories of another kiss, ephemeral and soft, drifted across his mind. A porch swing at sunset, a wave as the girl slipped giggling back into the house. . . .

He thought he'd grown a bit from the boy he'd been all those years ago. It was startling how some things resisted change.

"Gaignun, Jr.!" a voice shouted over the din, bringing him once more into the present. "Gaignun, Jr.!" A few seconds later a woman in a security uniform appeared in front of him. She handed him a small headset. "Call from Security Station 12." Jr. nodded and clipped the set to his right ear.

"Go ahead."

"Jr.," chaos's calm tone was marked with stress, "we've got a distress signal from a tradeship nearby. We've sent out a rescue team. Thought you should know."

"Thanks," Jr. replied, sobriety settling in quickly. "I'll inform Gaignun. Let me know if anything else happens." He ended the call once chaos agreed.

_I see_ , Gaignun said a moment later. _I should have expected something to mar the occasion._

_Well, there's a limit to how much you can plan for_ , Jr. pointed out. _I'm about to get in touch with the medical teams, have them ready by the time they get back here._

_A good idea._

* * *

Within hours a small crowd had gathered by the docks, mostly medical personnel and security with a few civilian rubberneckers thrown in. All of them watched as a small search and rescue vessel made its way into the available berth. Soon after that a woman and two men were led off the ship, followed by two more people on gurneys. Emergency vehicles then whisked them away.

Jr. pushed his way through the onlookers. "So what the hell happened?" he demanded.

One of the S and R technicians turned half about, startled by the redhead's sudden presence. "Seems like they got ambushed."

"I guessed that much," Jr. muttered. "Damn it, this is supposed to be a safe area. Where'd this take place?"

The tech looked upwards a moment in a universal gesture of recollection. "Let's see. I think it was . . . just off of Danae column."

"The hell. That's not part of any trade route leading here. I thought they were on a damned tradeship."

"It seems they were trying to avoid the normal routes. Guess they figured the main trade columns'd be congested for now." The tech shrugged. "Doesn't look like the detour was worth it, though. Maybe this'll make people follow proper navigational paths."

"Want to bet?"


	25. Investigation Prelude

**Chapter 25: Investigation Prelude**

Suppressing a yawn Jr. made his way into the security station, nodding at various personnel. "Another one?"

chaos looked up from his seat, having taken a more permanent post on the security team. "Yeah. This'll make the seventh in two months. At this rate soon we won't have any incoming traffic at all." That might have been an exaggeration; even the Foundation's ‘slow season’ saw hundreds, often thousands, of visitors in a single day. But the attacks had drawn the attention of the news services, and traffic rates were beginning to drop steeply.

Jr. fumed; this was a problem they absolutely did not need. He wished he understood the reasoning behind preying on (mostly) defenseless civilian transports and commercial vessels. He wished he knew there was a reason. He hoped it was for something better than someone's secret amusement at the suffering of others.

"Any idea who's behind this?" Jr. plopped down on an empty chair and finally gave in to the yawn he'd been holding back. "Sorry, didn't get much sleep last night."

"That's all right. Well, since most of the attacks have been against Foundation-registered ships I'd think it's someone with a grudge. Other than that, I'm not too sure."

Half spinning in his seat, Jr. mulled that over. "Well, I don't think it's U-TIC. Somehow I doubt they're ready to go quite so public. I suppose it could be someone who resents the industrial contracts we've been getting. The Foundation's seen a lot of profit since Light Spindle agreed to have our plants manufacture their satellite components.”

chaos seemed unconvinced. “What's odd is that no one's taken responsibility. You'd think if this were financially motivated someone would have gotten in contact with us. Same if this had anything to do with ideology.”

Jr. frowned. “Ideology, huh? The Foundation’s antidiscrimination laws are pretty robust. Still. . . .”

“It doesn't make much sense to attack an organization that makes an effort to attract as many people as possible. This place is practically throwing jobs at everyone. The Kukai Foundation is probably one of biggest employers of uberhumans in the Federation, to begin with.” chaos and Jr. both went still.

Jr. let out a slow breath. “I guess things haven't entirely settled down on that front. We’re still missing something. There are a few anti-variant groups out there, but most of them are too small to pull off something like this. And the ones that could are having problems right now. --Let me check something."

The console Jr. was sitting at came to life as data flashed up on the screen. All the ships had crew injured during the attacks--generally minor contusions though there'd been a few broken bones and some cases of internal bleeding. One woman was undergoing extensive nanotherapy for a mangled leg. He looked at crew backgrounds. "Well that's interesting."

chaos looked up. "What'd you find?"

"Five of these ships are crewed by variants. The two that aren't, _Miranda_ and _Lazarus_ , had the lightest injuries."

"But there were two people on the _Miranda_ who couldn't even walk out on their own," chaos pointed out.

"It did look that way. But somehow I doubt they were as bad off as they seemed. Oh yeah: have any of the ships' black boxes given us anything to work with?"

A security tech turned. "Apparently the ships in question were hit with a wave pulse similar to an ECM. When they stopped to investigate they got attacked, mostly by beam-fire, sir."

"This is all happening in the same area, right?" Jr. stood up suddenly, restlessness settling in. There had to be some way to stop the attacks.

chaos nodded and pulled up a chart on his screen. "Right. They all take place near the Danae and Calliope columns." He looked back at Jr., concerned. "Are you thinking of sending another investigation team?"

Jr. nodded. "Yeah. Me."

* * *

"You want _what_? Are you people out of your minds?" Matthews's incredulous face glared at them from a comm screen in Gaignun's office. "The _Lorant's_ just a passenger ship, not a scout. She's not designed for this sort of thing."

Jr. grinned. "Exactly. If anyone's there, they'll mistake us for prey. Besides, it's not like I'd ask you to take us out there--"

"Us?" chaos interrupted.

"--without adding some new equipment," Jr. finished. He turned to chaos. "Yeah, I want you with me."

Matthews thought about that for a moment. "So. You're saying I won't be totally blind and helpless out there?"

"Right," Jr. confirmed.

"And what's in it for me?" the _Lorant's_ captain asked bluntly. At Jr.'s reaction he added, "You don't think I'd risk life and ship for nothing do you?"

"All right, fine. We'll pay the fee for a normal four system run with a fifty percent bonus."

Matthews scoffed. "Like I'd settle for a piddling fifty percent. Three times."

"Two times," Jr. responded to Matthews's bargaining.

"I suppose that'll do," Matthews agreed. "Now that that's settled, when do we head out?"

Jr. looked upward in thought. "Let's see. . . . With supply and installation, we should be ready to go in . . . not more than eighteen hours."

"You're not wasting any time, are you? All right, see you then." Matthews closed the connection.

chaos regarded the space where the screen had been. "I have to admit I'm surprised he didn't take more convincing."

"Hey, double pay's not bad for someone in transport," Jr. pointed out. "Besides, I'll probably let him keep the upgrades."

"You know, I think he was counting on that."

* * *

Gaignun stared bleakly at the news feed, the screen showing footage of the Foundation's commercial docks. It was becoming a painfully familiar sight, medical teams leading wounded and trembling survivors to safety while onlookers were kept at a safe distance by station security. He muted the feed when the image switched to a smartly dressed woman with a microphone. He remembered the impromptu interview and had no desire to hear himself say he still didn't know why this was happening or how it could be stopped.

Instead he turned his attention to the UMN phone on his desk. Indicator lights flashed as incoming messages were automatically halted--it seemed like everyone was desperate to reach him. He carefully tapped the light for Security and picked up the receiver. "Any developments?"

"Well, this new group's still getting patched up," a female voice responded, "but they did mention something interesting, sir. In addition to the pseudo-ECM they got hit with a comm-jammer. But the jammer went offline halfway through the attack."

Gaignun leaned back in his seat, eyes closed briefly in thought. "Deliberately, or. . . ?"

"Somehow I don't think it was on purpose. It could mean the attackers are using secondhand or illegally salvaged equipment. I know we were seeing a lot of that sort of thing on the--"

Gaignun finished the sentence at the same time as the security tech: "--black market." He remembered Helmer's comment about military equipment no longer showing up. The timing was too perfect; it had to be related. Still, there were other avenues to investigate. "Jr. thinks this might be the work of an anti-uberhuman group."

There was a break in the conversation while the ST tapped something out on her touchpad. "Well, I suppose that could be, but. . . ."

"You're not convinced?"

"Well, sir, after the SPA was enacted a couple years ago there was a major drop in anti-variant sentiment. Well, publically at least. Only three groups are left with a large enough following, but none of them look like they're in any condition to manage something like this. Heritage of Adam lost a lot of its leadership to that recent endemic on Sarinaath and Untainted Blood's headquarters on Ogdoas burned down last year. It's going to take them both a while to rebuild. Wirefree Warriors has the largest following, but it's basically a collection of UMN discussion groups; they've never shown signs of uniting along a single front."

Gaignun could understand the tech's skepticism. "Still, don't drop this line of investigation just yet."

"Yes sir." The line went dead.

Setting the receiver back in its cradle Gaignun closed his eyes and sighed. Despite all their efforts it felt like they were getting nowhere.


	26. Insecurity

**Chapter 26: Insecurity**

"You sure this is the right area?" Matthews stared through the forward window at tranquil space. They'd used the Calliope column to gate-jump to the ambush point, but what they saw when they got there distressed them. With all the attacks there should've been some debris floating around, not . . . nothing. Even if there had been some salvaging they wouldn't have gotten everything.

Jr. looked up at him. "Yeah. I really don't like the look of this. I know I joked about this ship looking like prey, but I'd rather not get caught in a trap." He turned to chaos. "Have the drones been released yet?"

"A couple minutes ago," chaos confirmed. "So, do we just wait?"

Jr. nodded, nervously fingering the light pistol holstered at his side. It'd been a long time since he'd needed to carry a weapon; he thought those days were long gone--and to make matters worse he couldn't hear Gaignun at this distance. He disliked the sense of vulnerability. "Yeah, it looks like that's all we can do for now."

"Man, I must be nuts to be out here," Matthews grumbled. The _Lorant's_ captain leaned towards chaos. "You picking up anything yet? I'd like to get this over with."

chaos checked all his datafeeds. "I'm not picking up anything. As far as I can tell, this area is totally abandoned. I double-checked, too: we're not getting a false readout. And the ECCMs are silent."

Looking back out the forward window Jr. frowned. "So that probably means they've got cloaking capabilities. Not good. Only government or military vessels should have anything like that. I really hope I haven't gotten us into too big a mess."

* * *

Gaignun wound his way through the security station, periodically dodging harried staff members. He'd been called down there on what the Chief of Security, Alan Foster, had called an "urgent situation." He stopped near the endmost right console, where the security chief was waiting. "What did you need to see me about?"

Foster took a deep breath and tilted the screen so Gaignun could see it. "This."

For a moment Gaignun stared at the blank sensor readout without realizing the importance of what he was seeing. Then it hit him: the _blank_ sensor readout. "When did this first happen?"

"About nine minutes ago, sir. All the sensors just cut out. Whoever's doing this has got some serious hardware at their disposal. It's not easy to blind a place this big." Foster grimaced. "It looks like whoever's been attacking our ships have finally decided to come after us."

Gaignun had to agree with Foster. "What's been done so far?"

"All civilians are being directed to the shielded zones, and the outer panels are closing. Once that's done we'll be able to withstand even heavy missile fire, though I hope it doesn't come to that."

"Good work." It was. A young security tech was trying to get his attention. He turned. "Yes?"

She faltered a moment then squared her shoulders. "You have an incoming call from the CEO of Vector. He says he wants to speak to you personally. If you'll follow me, sir. . . ." The ST led Gaignun to a private communications room, taking a moment to examine the space before she closed the door behind her.

Settling himself at the screen, Gaignun opened the channel and in moments he was face to face with Wilhelm. "A pleasure to hear from you, Mr. Wilhelm. To what do I owe this call?" He kept his tone courteously neutral.

Vector's CEO looked at him a long moment, the head of one corporation sizing up another. Wilhelm decided not to waste time. "It was brought to my attention that several ships registered with your Foundation have fallen under attack these past several weeks. Given the investments I've made, I find this most . . . distressing. Have these incidents been brought to a halt yet?"

Gaignun kept his face carefully blank. _Wilhelm_ was distressed, was he? "We've sent out a team to investigate." He wasn't about to admit they couldn't handle the situation.

"I see," Wilhelm murmured. They both read between the lines. "While I'm quite aware that I shouldn't get involved, I've decided to send someone to assist you: the Realian Canaan. I'm sure you remember him."

_Now_ surprise registered, Gaignun's face freezing for one second before his expression relaxed again. "We appreciate the help."

Wilhelm nodded once. "As I said: my investment. He should be arriving in your area in a few hours."

"I'll keep an eye out for him."

After the call ended Gaignun thought about the exchange. So Canaan would be arriving soon. Given the Dammerung's current location it would've taken him at least three days to reach them, and now he was due to show up just when the Foundation was coming under attack? Someone knew more than they were saying. Yet he was still glad of the help.

He reached out to contact Jr. and winced. He'd forgotten for a moment that his older brother was out of telepathic range. In addition to that they were maintaining comm silence with the _Lorant_ , and if anyone was going to break that silence, it was far more likely to be Jr. Until Gaignun received some word they were effectively cut off.

* * *

"So how long do we wait?" Matthews had gotten restless, not that the others blamed him. Waiting to see who had fallen into whose trap was unsettling at best.

"Until something happens I suppose," Jr. muttered.

He'd hoped to find some hint of either the motive behind the attacks, or the identity of the people who'd been preying on Foundation ships out here. Instead all he'd found was empty space and a gnawing sense of dread. He'd asked about the region in question and had been told the accumulated wreckage was starting to pose a navigational hazard. Yet when they arrived there wasn't so much as a stray bolt. Jr. tried to ignore the thought that someone had already known they were coming.

Maybe not, though. He thought back to a conversation with one of the S and R techs, and what the woman had actually told him. She hadn't said she'd had trouble maneuvering through the debris; she'd said one of the people she'd help rescue had said it. Damn. Now he wished he'd paid a bit more attention to that at the time. He wished it was a good enough reason to break comm silence, but it wasn't, not quite.

Jr. gnawed a thumbnail as he thought about the previous investigation of the area. It'd been handled by a mid-level security team. Who'd been in charge of debriefing them? A name floated up in his memory, and he didn't like the implications.

His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden flickering of the bridge's lights. One by one every station shut down. "Here we go," Jr. said grimly.

A moment later the entire ship was bathed in darkness.


	27. Alarm

**Chapter 27: Alarm**

The soft hum of lifesupport systems banished the silence on the bridge, fans and filters working off of backup power. Emergency lights came on afterwards, a sullen red glow enveloping the bridge. No one had moved, though Jr.'s gun had found its way into his hand.

"Electronic countermeasures confirmed," chaos said calmly. "Or at least something similar. It seems like it was aimed at the ship's generator. Propulsion, shielding and weapons are disabled due to insufficient power. We've also got communications blocked." The bridge stations had powered up again, but nonessential functions remained unavailable. "It'll take at least forty-six seconds for the ECCMs to take effect."

Jr. holstered his weapon. "I guess this area isn't as empty as it seems."

Matthews scoffed. "What gave you that idea? Anyway, what's the plan here? Do we just wait until they show themselves and start shooting, or. . . ?" Jr. hadn't been too clear on what he'd been intending.

The redhead settled himself at another station. "Well, it looks like the barriers we put up around the secondary generator worked just fine. It's not enough to run the entire ship, but it'll give us several good shots from the _Lorant's_ beam guns. And the drones should be recording all this. So we're not as helpless as they think we are. Now if we just knew where they were."

"I have an idea about that," chaos said as he sent the image on his screen to the other stations. "Look at that dark area in the center." As he spoke Jr. and Matthews noticed a strange rippling in the image. That was right. It was possible to see a cloaked object if you were looking directly at it.

Jr. grinned. "Well, now that we know where to aim let's--" Suddenly he was thrown forward as an impact rocked the ship. The screen in front of him flickered briefly. There were still eight seconds left before the ECCMs took effect and brought the ship's engines and shields back online. "Damn, I don't like their timing."

* * *

Pandemonium broke out on the Foundation's general docks moments after Wilhelm's call ended. Someone had begun firing live rounds into the still-crowded area. People raced about in a panic, focused only on getting to safety. More shots were fired. A man went down, clutching his wounded leg. Two others were trampled in the ensuing stampede while dockside businesses closed their emergency shutters. Extra security had been called in, but it would take time for them to arrive.

Gaignun watched the scene from the security station, his lips pressed in a thin line. He paced from one console to another. "Anything?" he asked tersely.

The tech nearest him shook his head. "We've started analyzing the visual recordings, but we haven't made much progress yet. We're checking vantage points based on the angle of the shots. Whoever's doing this planned well."

"I don't like this," Foster muttered from behind Gaignun. "Too coordinated. One of our directors goes out to investigate and this happens?"

Gaignun didn't like it either.

* * *

Yellow eyes stared at the floating bubble that was the Kukai Foundation, deceptively placid. Yet the apparent serenity was in itself an alarm. A colony this big ought to've had a steady stream of vehicular and communications traffic, not stillness and silence. He was about to drop into a bad situation.

He felt something akin to comfort at being back in his craft, going through pre-launch checks. The sequence was as familiar as breathing. Every system was in the green. He opened a channel to the dropship's bridge. "ES Asher startup sequence complete. Requesting launch."

"Launch request confirmed. Since most communications were cut we don't know what we're dealing with down there, so be careful."

"Of course," he assured the woman on the other end of the line.

They let him go.

Canaan felt a brief moment of exhilaration as Asher dropped towards the Foundation before his suppressor kicked in. A look at his displays showed he was well on target, only minutes away from touchdown. He tensed slightly, eyes fixed on his goal. It couldn't be this easy.

It was.

With a soundless clang he landed on a thick strut and began searching for a way in.

* * *

A new series of alarms sounded in the security station.

"We've got an unidentified craft on the Foundation's outer shell." ES Asher appeared on the main screen, the large craft moving with almost dangerous swiftness along the colony's rim.

Gaignun glanced at the clock on the wall. "Right on time. Open a channel: that's an ally out there."

Within seconds Asher's image was replaced by that of Canaan's face. Gaignun stared back at him, remembering little about the Realian who'd help rescue them from Miltia some seven years ago. "Thinking of sneaking in?"

A humorless smile crossed Canaan's face. "With most of the commlines down I thought it best to try and enter discreetly."

Gaignun's own expression remained fixed. "So I see."


	28. Minor Revelation

**Chapter 28: Minor Revelation**

The distance between the hangar and the security station was too far to walk. A car had been sent to pick Canaan up as soon as he'd been instructed where to dock his craft; he saw it approaching moments after he dropped down from Asher's cockpit. Not long after that the vehicle came to a halt and within minutes he was in the back seat beside Nigredo--Gaignun Kukai.

"You're sure the ambushed ships and the shooting on the docks are connected?" Canaan asked once Gaignun had finished briefing him on the situation.

The Kukai Foundation's senior Representative Trustee nodded grimly. "I do. This newest development happened just after Jr.--Rubedo--went out to investigate the ambushes. I refuse to believe this is simply a coincidence."

They reached the security station. Canaan asked, "So what's my part in all this?" and narrowly missed colliding with a general-use Realian rushing past with a sheaf of flimsies in her hand.

A pause. "Wilhelm didn't give you any orders?"

Canaan shook his head. "He told me to place myself at your disposal. Other than that, no."

_Wonderful_ , Gaignun thought to himself. He cupped his mouth with his right hand contemplatively. "One would think finding out where the shots were fired from would be our first priority. . . ." The barest inklings of an idea were beginning to form in the back of his mind. He beckoned Foster over.

The security chief raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"What's the casualty rate for the shootings so far?" Gaignun asked without explaining himself.

Foster blinked. "There were the two who'd been trampled during the stampede but no deaths from gunshot wounds. Various injuries, yes." The man's face puckered in thought. "You don't suppose this whole thing's just a--"

"--distraction," Gaignun finished, green eyes narrowing. "Indeed, this whole incident is aimed at keeping our eyes away from our real enemies."

Canaan looked at Gaignun. "I get the feeling you have some idea how to proceed from here."

"I do," Gaignun answered, then turned back to Foster. "Have the ES Asher moved to Hangar E." It was the closest to the shipyard.

* * *

The Foundation's main medical center was an island of enforced calm in a sea of growing panic. The number of injured being admitted was climbing steadily. There were broken bones, torn flesh, internal bleeding--as the residents and visitors of the Foundation tried to flee the general docks they ended up doing more harm to themselves than the shooter. EMTs were doing what they could on site but there remained a growing stream of people needing the care only a hospital could give. Still, there was a limit to the medical center's capacity. The medical staff remained outwardly calm, rendering assistance where needed, but they were starting to feel a bit frayed. If things were this bad now, what would they be like in only a few hours? In a few days?

At which thought they straightened their shoulders and got back to work.

Mary peered out from behind a countertop as someone was wheeled down the hall to the first nanotreatment room. She and Shelley had decided to help out where they could, doing fetch-and-carry jobs and other tasks for the hospital staff. "Another one. . . . This is bad, Shelley. There'll be injured bursting out the windows by nightfall at this rate." She turned to her sister, who was sorting admittance forms, her eyes turned away from Mary.

"I know," Shelley replied a couple of minutes later. "But there's nothing we can do except help out where we're asked. I'm sure Gaignun and the security teams are doing everything they can to put a stop to this. There's no use in thinking how it could get worse." She looked at her sister and smiled, the expression wavering a bit. "Let's just do what we can here."

Mary nodded, her almost thirteen-year-old face setting in determination. "You're right."

* * *

Jr. spent a moment checking himself for injuries. That blast had thrown him against the edge of his console and if nothing else his middle was going to be one huge bruise. "So where the hell did that come from? Was it from that cloaked ship?"

"Not from what I can tell. It seems like it came from aft." chaos's voice was laced with worry. "And before you ask I can't spot anything there, not even a slight distortion."

"Damn it," Jr. hissed. "I don't like this. Get us pointed where they want us and hit us in the back. And they've got damned good cloaking technology. Just who are we dealing with?"

The three of them grew quiet, contemplating the situation. Then: "Well, we can't sit around and do nothing, but after this little development I'm not sure firing on that rippling area's such a good idea." At the looks the other two gave him Matthews continued, "Look, that thing might just be a decoy, some little oddity set up to get our attention. So we waste power firing on it, then we find out it's something completely innocuous, like a bit of hull plating or something. Then once we're completely powerless we get noshed on."

Jr. thought that over. "So, do we fire in the direction that shot came from?"

Captain Matthews shook his head. "Don't know. There's no way to know if whatever-it-is is still there or not. Plus we've got to consider our energy expenditure. The shields and engines are back online, but that first attack took our power reserves to a shade under thirty percent. Hang on." He entered a series of commands. "I've shut down power to all currently non-essential areas of the ship. That'll bring us up to forty-three percent. Now we can keep the shields up at max for a half hour with full evasion. Of course, if we get hit by another of those pseudo-ECMs we'll be up the creek without a paddle _or_ a raft."

"One thing that bothers me," chaos spoke up, "is that we haven't received any communications from them. Shouldn't we be getting threats or demands or something? It just seems a little strange they're not saying anything."

"That bugs me too," Jr. muttered. The survivors had all reported that there'd been a brief demand for surrender, but the _Lorant_ had yet to hear a word from its attackers. "Are they just toying with us? If that's meant to be a warning shot, what are they warning us against?"

chaos regarded his screen blankly, thinking over Jr.'s questions. "We might be able to do something," he began, slowly. "If we fire a shot in the direction that attack came from, we might hit something."

"And if we don't," Matthews replied, "they'll fire on us again."

chaos nodded once. "Hopefully." The others stared at him in shock.

"Say what?" Jr. exploded.

"If they fire on us again I could use the direction of the blast to pinpoint their location and we might get a shot of our own off. Of course, that means someone'll have to be ready to fire the guns at a moment's notice." chaos nodded at Jr.

Matthews rubbed his jaw. "You know, this might work. We can take a few good hits right now." He waved a hand dismissively then shifted the armaments board to Jr.'s console. "Keep it under a quarter-power." At Matthews's instructions Jr. began flipping switches, bringing the weapons to life. A moment later he had a target, courtesy of chaos. He held his breath and fired.

The weakened shot hit nothing, merely continuing until it eventually dissipated. There was no sound on the bridge, all of them waiting to see the result of their little gamble. It came a moment later, from starboard.

"Now!" chaos yelled.

Jr. fired.


	29. Nothing Sacred

**Chapter 29: Nothing Sacred**

Mary glanced up from her work, the soft tapping of approaching footsteps her only warning before a hand settled on her shoulder. She looked at the nurse. "Mm?" His namebadge said he was Andy Gennings, but everyone called him Aggy.

He smiled. "How're you holding up?"

She shrugged. "We're okay. Getting a little tired but we can hang in there I think."

Aggy "hmm"ed for a moment, his features scrunched. "How about you do one last errand and then you and Shelley can go relax for a bit in the cafeteria?" At the distasteful look on Mary's face he laughed. "Don't worry, the food they serve there tastes better than what we give to patients. I should know," he added, patting an ample midsection.

Mary thought about that then nodded, her blonde hair bouncing. "That sounds okay. What did you have in mind?"

"It'd be a huge help if you could clear out the meal trays in rooms 301 to 312. It looks like we're going to need those rooms soon. --And I want to say both of you have been a huge help today."

Mary straightened, bolstered by the compliment. "You're welcome."

* * *

At chaos's "Now!" Jr. fired the _Lorant's_ smaller beam cannon. His gut clenched as somewhere inside him a sleeping dragon lifted its head and bared its fangs before settling down once more. A small sphere of energy appeared in the forward window a moment later, several times brighter than they'd expected. A moment later they averted their eyes from the resulting flash of the impact. Even at an angle it was painfully bright.

"Hey, didn't I say to keep it low-powered?" Matthews said.

Jr. shrugged. "I did." In addition to the churning in his gut his eyes burned. Only chaos was in a position to notice their curious brightness.

A moment later they gaped in disbelief at the image from the starboard camera. It was of an elongate, blue-gray ship with patches of bright orange. It was far larger than their little passenger ship and loomed menacingly.

Jr. was the first to find his voice. "What the hell? What's a Federation ship doing shooting at us?"

* * *

"So do you have any idea why you're being attacked in the first place?" Canaan inquired as he walked alongside Gaignun, his stride matching the young businessman's. They turned a strangely deserted corner, heading for the shipyard.

Gaignun nodded briefly. "When we started making this place into a viable city we employed a large number of uberhumans, even before the Species Preservation Act was formally established. We still do. Jr. suspects, and I agree, that it's probably an anti-uberhuman group. Unfortunately we haven't discovered precisely who they are yet."

"I see." Canaan scanned the area, reconnaissance habits kicking in. "So when did these attacks begin?"

"A couple of months ago, during the New Year's Eve celebration," Gaignun said. "I hate to admit it, but they caught us off guard."

"Careless."

"Yes." There was no use in denying it. "Anyway, we're here." They surveyed the shipyard, an orderly wasteland of metal beams and machinery, a fine powder coating the ground in places, the smell of machine oil permeating the air. The _Durandal's_ multitude of hull sections littered the area. Here and there guards patrolled the surroundings.

For a moment neither of them spoke as they took in the scenery. Canaan broke the silence. "Security seems surprisingly light."

Gaignun nodded and began walking again. "I had several of the STs relocated to help with the circumstances on the docks. Others I gave a different assignment."

"I see."

* * *

Mary leaned against the cart as Shelley loaded another tray, this one with its meal untouched. Even the dessert was intact. It really didn't look that bad. "Is that the last one?" Mary asked.

There was a pause as Shelley double-checked the stack of trays against the list they'd been given. ". . . It looks like we missed one." She ran her finger down the stack, studying the thin label along each edge. "Ah--we missed one from 311." Within moments they had the elusive tray and were making their way out of the room.

Suddenly Mary stopped as she heard muffled sounds coming from the adjacent bathroom. "Is someone still in here?"

Shelley shrugged, nonplussed. "It might be one of the staff cleaning up in there."

"You're probably right." Mary went over and knocked on the door, twice. "Hey, it's Mary. We got all the trays like Aggy asked, so we're gonna go take a break for a while, okay?"

The sounds ceased.

The sisters looked at each other uneasily. "Is anyone in there?" Mary said, raising her voice slightly. Somehow she didn't think there was a janitor in there. There should have been the sound of a mop in a bucket, or the clatter of toiletries being restocked, not this unsettling silence. She was sure she'd heard someone stirring around in there, though. Maybe they were sick or injured. Maybe they needed help. She turned the latch and pushed the door inward. "Is everything okay?"

As Mary opened the door she and Shelley peeked into the small bathroom. To their left was a small sink and vanity combination with the toilet slightly hidden beyond. At the far end was the shower alcove. To their right was a long metal shelving rack. The vanity counter was littered with a small array of communications devices.

Seated on the toilet lid was a man idly fiddling with a length of cable. He looked over at them and smiled.

"Would you mind closing the door behind you?"


	30. Entrapment

**Chapter 30: Entrapment**

There was an eerie quiet in the shipyard. While guards patrolled the area, mechanics and construction workers were conspicuously absent. Gaignun wasn't alarmed: he'd ordered this. Making sure the comm device clipped to his ear was working properly and switching on the recorder, he led Canaan to the section that would become the _Durandal's_ bridge.

Even with the lightened security there should have been at least two people posted near the ship's nerve center. No one stood there. But a moment's careful inspection revealed drag marks leading around the left corner of the bridge section. The two of them went around and saw the guards piled together, both women, both young.

Both dead.

" _Damn_ ," Alan Foster swore in Gaignun's ear when Canaan had verified the guards' deaths. It was about how Gaignun felt. Now it wasn't simply terrorism. Now it wasn't just panic or accidental death. Now it was murder. Someone had broken the guards necks and then dragged them a few yards around the bridge then dumped them in a heap in plain sight. It was appalling in its sheer pointlessness. It took all of Gaignun's self-control just to be still.

A few moments later he took a ragged breath as Canaan came to stand beside him, then a steadier one. "We still have work to do," he reminded himself.

"Sir," he heard Foster's voice in his ear once again. "We've caught the sniper. One Cassandra Lee. She started having fun and got sloppy. The people she shot are en route to the hospital. Thought you'd like to know."

That was enough to shake Gaignun out of his malaise. "Thanks." He went back to the guards' post. There was an entry hatch, currently unlocked. He summoned two of the STs on patrol before opening the hatch. The STs went in first, scanning the room before giving the all-clear.

"This is a trap," Canaan murmured beside him.

"I know. But I'd like to find out whose," Gaignun said. They stepped inside.

The hatch shut behind them.

* * *

"Thanks for closing the door. Wouldn't want someone to walk in on us, now would we?" The man attached the cable to a tablet, humming off key as he worked. "--Ah," he said sharply to Shelley. "No. Get your hand away from that door. That's better," he said as Shelley slowly removed her hand from the door latch. "You know I can't let you walk out of here. --So how did you wind up in a loo with a shady guy like me anyway?" His smile was open and engaging. The girls found it offputting.

"We were removing the food trays from the rooms," Shelley answered as Mary clutched her arm tightly. Their eyes traveled from the man's face to the heavy black pistol holstered at his hip. "We thought you might be someone who needed help." She tried to keep her voice steady. She knew she had to stay calm but she could feel her little sister trembling beside her. Between that and the gun it was hard to stay focused.

If anything the man's smile widened. "You're a couple of real nice girls, you know that?" They didn't answer. "Really lucky girls, too. Just happening upon an armed intruder? Really, what are the chances?" He drew the pistol.

As the girls weighed their chances of escaping without being hit he shot upwards suddenly and, with his left hand, pushed Shelley against the wall, her left arm twisted against her back at a painful angle. With his right he aimed the gun at Mary's head. "You know, I should rephrase what I said a moment ago. When I said you were lucky, I really meant _I_ was lucky. I apologize for phrasing that badly." Shelley struggled against his grip and whimpered in increased pain as he bent her arm further.

Suddenly his grip on Shelley loosened just slightly as he took a step back to bludgeon Mary with the heavy pistol. Before Shelley could react she felt herself being shoved to the floor, her face held downwards. She felt something slip into the slot in the back of her neck--the slot she thought she'd never use again--and then she saw the Network flashing in front of her eyes.

_Connection established._

* * *

The security techs took up positions at either end of the bridge. Most of the equipment was still exposed but the wiring and electrical systems were largely intact. They could see the shipyard and the Foundation's dome through the large window that covered the bridge. As Gaignun and Canaan headed for what would be the ship's helm one station switched on.

"You're a shrewd man, Mr. Kukai. I'll give you that." The voice that came from the console's speaker was male and slightly gravelly. "It didn't take as long for you to find your way here as I'd thought it would. But maybe I shouldn't be calling you Mr. Kukai. Perhaps Nigredo. Or Unit 669. My word, but the secrecy surrounding you was quite impressive."

Gaignun kept his hands at his sides. He wasn't sure if the man on the other end of the commlink had a camera on him or not and he didn't want to call attention to the earpiece. "What do you want?"

"I'm quite distressed at the lies you've being perpetrating against these fine people. Then again, if they live or work here, I suppose they don't really qualify as 'fine people,' do they? Bunch of wirebrained freaks."

The STs had wisely remained silent during the exchange. Canaan stood a few feet away from Gaignun, a curious glow in his eyes as he watched and listened on more than one level. "What do you want?" Gaignun repeated, keeping his voice even.

"What do I want?" The man's voice was mock-astonished. "Can't you guess? Your kind have warped and polluted our noble species for decade after decade. You weakened us. You stole livelihood from those just as qualified, just as 'worthy' as you, if not infinitely more. How many normal humans were passed over in favor of 'uberhumans'?" At that point a grayish-white fog began to fill the room.

"I want you gone."


	31. Dragon

**Chapter 31: Dragon**

"That's not a Fed ship," Matthews said after Jr.'s outburst.

The redhead turned to look at the retired Marine before taking a closer look at the ship on the screen. "Hey, you're right." After having been immersed for nearly a year in spaceship design he should have noticed it himself. Various portions of the "Federation" ship didn't seem to match up properly. "It sort of looks like they attached the engine pack from a Federation escort ship to the front end of a gunship. Whoever they are."

chaos looked up from his screen. "Whoever they are it looks like they're beginning to maneuver."

"They getting into a better firing position?" Matthews hoped they weren't in for a protracted battle. Even with the modifications he didn't think his little passenger ship could take on a full sized battleship.

"It doesn't look like it," chaos said. "It looks like they're accelerating to gate jump speed. Wait. They're about to fire."

"Like hell they are. Shields up to full and let's _evade_ ," Matthews said, quickly adjusting the _Lorant's_ position. "If we survive try to open a channel."

Attacks from a ship's energy weapons were rarely an instantaneous thing. Typically there was just enough time for nearby ships to register the increase in power and act accordingly, which was why the Lorant was able to avoid the lance of beamfire that'd been aimed at their previous position. It was still a close shave as the little ship's shields had absorbed a good percentage of the attack. Once they were clear chaos tried making contact with the battleship. "I'm not getting any response from them."

Matthews shifted in his chair as he regarded the image of the accelerating ship. "That last blast was meant to kill us. And it looks like they're headed for Calliope column. So why haven't they fired again?" He looked over at Jr. "You want to join this little discussion?"

Jr. had been thinking about the way he'd interacted with the Lorant's weapons and whether or not he could do so again safely. It'd be handy if he could. "If they're taking Calliope then they're headed for the Foundation. And we're following."

Matthews nodded. "Sounds about right."

Less than two minutes later the battleship entered hyperspace. Seventeen seconds after that so did the _Lorant_.

* * *

It would take a while before the gas completely filled the _Durandal's_ bridge. Given his position Canaan estimated that he had maybe forty-five seconds before he needed to stop breathing and maybe six, seven minutes after that before oxygen deprivation became an issue. The others were already moving as far from the release valves as they could manage. The gas that was emerging was a nasty one, and even slight fumes were causing the STs to cough violently. Unhappy chance had placed not just one but both of them next to a valve. Gaignun had been luckier.

"It's really a shame that you won't see the end of this place," the man's voice continued while the four of them tried not to breathe. "But I'm grateful, you know: you did us all a great service by bringing so many mutants together in one place. Hunting you all down was getting downright tedious. Of course destroying this place won't be enough to get rid of all of you but every bit helps. Soon humanity will be a race of blood untainted."

At that Gaignun heard a very soft "Got it" from Foster. It was good to know who they were dealing with, finally. He still had a few minutes before his lungs started protesting, but he hoped that the man from Untainted Blood would keep giving out information and that Canaan was hurrying.

"My forces have no doubt already dealt with your son, or rather your older brother. What a screwed up family you have. And if not, we'll eventually hunt him down. --In any event a ship is headed here. It should arrive in an hour's time. Now I know that you've added all sorts of safety features to your pretty little snowglobe of a station, but a large ship exiting hyperspace and continuing at full speed, with all its weapons live and powered up, ramming into this place . . . well, the damage will certainly be extensive. It's really too bad you'll be dead long before then."

During all this Canaan had been accessing his internal UMN connection and his remote link to ES Asher. If he was in range--and he was--he could access the craft and call it to him. It was going to take time for the craft to reach him, though: as long as it took for Hangar E's internal doors to open and release Asher and for Asher to travel the distance between the _Durandal's_ bridge and the hangar. He sensed it getting nearer. He turned to see it appear over a line of machine sheds.

As he saw the ES approach he felt another consciousness using the same UMN channel. Someone with an interlink? _Identify yourself_ , he requested.

The voice that responded was young, female. It was also terrified.

_LET ME OUT! PLEASE, PLEASE LET ME OUT! MARY! I DON'T WANT TO BE IN HERE ANYMORE! PLEASE LET ME OUT!_

* * *

Shelley shuddered as she felt the interlink cable slide into her neck port. The view that met her visual perception was of a line of stylized glass cabinets in a rainbow of colors. It was a visual representation of the Foundation's database. Against her will she felt herself nearing one cobalt blue "cabinet" and she tried to resist it. Pain exploded in her mind as her surroundings seemed to break into fragments for a brief second. She was sure she screamed, though at the moment she couldn't feel her body.

This was wrong, she thought as she was forced to access the Galaxy Species Preservation Act Support Foundation's membership files. There was a method to using an interlink. One didn't just plug in and hope for the best. There were mental exercises an interlink user needed to do first if she was making a solo connection, or else she might find herself stranded forever in the virtual world. After she'd accessed the files (though she wasn't sure why he wanted them) she felt the unwelcome pressure on her mind vanish, but the virtual database remained.

She looked down at herself. She had a body here, but she knew it wasn't really hers. Her body was lying on the bathroom floor of room 311 in the Foundation's main hospital. Maybe. She wasn't in a position to know. The thought almost broke her.

She knew she had to find a way back to her body soon. A body without higher brain functions was little more than a vegetable and eventually it would shut down. Shelley wondered how long she had before that happened. A couple of days? A few hours?

This was worse than when she and Mary had been held by that drug development ring. At least they'd made a minimal effort to keep the sisters alive. The monster who'd assaulted Mary and forced an interlink on her apparently didn't care if they lived or not.

Mary. She kept seeing the heavy pistol collide with her sister's skull, Mary crumpling.

No. No. She had to stay focused, had to find a way out of there. She attempted to access a different UMN channel and was rewarded with the sight of the database cabinets melting away, to be replaced by a series of concentric rings in varying shades of orange. At least she wasn't restricted to one channel. Perhaps there was someone using another channel, someone who could send help. She braced herself, then began switching through channels as fast as she could.

Image after image flashed and fused and melted before her perception. Towers became searchlights became oceans became catwalks became forests. Eventually the virtual image of her body began to fade. She needed the brain power to continue her search. Now she was little more than a disembodied thought. _Help_ , she sent out. _Someone please help._

She tried not to wonder how long she'd been searching. Every channel seemed strangely dormant. There should have been extensive traffic through the Network. Her message was starting to get frantic. _Please help me get out. Is anyone there? Please, please help me._ Panic was setting in.

_Identify yourself._ The voice was male and composed. The relief all but undid her and she gave in to the terror and desperation.

_LET ME OUT! PLEASE, PLEASE LET ME OUT! MARY! I DON'T WANT TO BE IN HERE ANYMORE! PLEASE LET ME OUT!_

* * *

The ES Asher picked up speed as it came nearer to the shipyard. Gaignun and the security techs dived for whatever cover they could find as the craft collided with the bridge's window, shattering it and destroying three of the forward bridge stations as it finally came to a halt. The gas was sucked out of the no longer sealed room to be replaced by clean, fresher air. Environmental bugs descended on the noxious fumes like an avenging gold glitter.

An inarticulate scream came from the open commlink before the connection was cut off.

The four of them began taking in great gulps of air before taking stock of their situation. They were alive but hardly unscathed. One of the STs had begun to cough up blood, and both had bloody noses. The whites of Gaignun's eyes had turned completely red. All four of them had blisters on hands and faces.

But they were alive.

The wreckage surrounding the ES Asher was too extensive to make egress possible by that route. As the others inspected the entry hatch Canaan excused himself. The consciousness he'd come across still hadn't identified herself.

_Identify yourself_ , he said once more and firmly.

He sensed she was trying to compose herself. _. . . Shelley Godwin_ , she said after a moment. _My name is Shelley Godwin. Who are you?  
My name is Canaan_, he said evenly. _I'm an old acquaintance of Gaignun Kukai's. I came to help with the attack on the Foundation._ He turned to look at the others. The entry hatch had been sabotaged so that the open command wouldn't work from the inside, but if it was cut off from the rest of the bridge's electrical system it would be nothing but a heavy metal door. As soon as that was done the STs were trying to shove the door aside, a difficult task as there was nothing for them to grip. Eventually it began to slide over centimeter by centimeter. Gaignun added his own strength to the task. A gap appeared between the frame of the hatch and the door itself. After that shoving the door aside became much easier.

_. . . You know Gaignun?_ The mention of the Managing Director seemed to calm Shelley somewhat.

_I do_ , Canaan confirmed. _What's your location?_

_The main hospital. Room 311. I think. I'm not sure anymore. He hit Mary, then he forced me into an interlink, then he left me like this and I can't get out and I don't know where to go and please I want out._

_Shelley_ , he said sharply. _I need you to focus. What was the interlink for?_ He called Gaignun over. "I'm in contact with a girl named Shelley. Apparently she's trapped in an interlink session."

"Shelley!" The name exploded from Gaignun's lips and Canaan regarded him for a moment. "I take it you know her."

Gaignun's jaw worked a moment before he settled on "Yes."

"She's at the main medical center. Room 311. Maybe."

_He wanted the membership files for the GPS. I don't know why._ Shelley's voice was steadier.

_Do you remember anything else? The equipment he used?_

_It felt . . . filthy. Like . . . poorly maintained. And it felt like cheap, secondhand devices._

_Did they have any identifying features? A particular manufacturer?_ It was as much to keep her calm as to gather information that Canaan asked. Even with the suppressor contact with someone so terrified was an intense experience.

_. . . Mercedes_ , she said finally. _One of the components was manufactured by Mercedes Technology on Ogdoas._

Canaan relayed the information. Other STs had begun converging on the stricken bridge section. _That's good. Help is on the way._

_Please don't go_ , she pleaded when he began to close the connection.

_All right. I'm still here._

_* * *_

It took all of Gaignun's willpower not to rush to the hospital. As Director he was responsible for the entire colony, not just his family. Understanding that didn't help, though.

He and Canaan had made their way to the nearest security station once a medic had put a nanopatch on the blisters. The security techs had been rushed to a nearby secondary medical center. Since they'd heard the threat to ram the Foundation itself Chief Foster and the security teams had been working frantically. With the admission that the man who'd made the threat was a member of Untainted Blood (and most likely its leader, Bertram Child), his motivation in killing as many uberhumans as possible, and Shelley's assertion that the equipment had been made by a company with anti-uberhuman leanings they had enough information to seek help from the Galaxy Federation itself. The Species Preservation Act was clearly being violated. It was only a matter of time before the group was permanently disbanded.

That didn't do the Kukai Foundation a lick of good if a ship was smashed directly into the colony.

"The sims aren't good, sir," Foster said tersely. "From what Child said about a large ship, what's headed for us could be anything from a civilian freighter to a Navy troop carrier. Though given his comment about weapons powered up I'm thinking it's a battleship of some sort he's aimed at us. So that's what we've been basing the simulations on." The security chief paused.

Gaignun didn't like that pause. ". . . And?" he prompted.

"Well, if it's a carrier, sir, we're frankly screwed. If something like a cruiser hits us, we might survive. The panels we closed earlier would probably keep the dome from being completely destroyed, but it's likely the dome would crack severely. The panels would hold it together, but. . . ."

Foster didn't need to continue. While the integrity of the dome was vital for the colony's survival, the Foundation's Director knew that it alone wasn't in danger. There was the growing metropolis itself to consider. Gaignun imagined whole districts leveled in the shockwave, buildings reduced to piles of steel and concrete, thousands or more dead or dying in the rubble.

As he considered this he felt a sudden pressure on his mind. Jr. was back in telepathic range.

_Gaignun!_

__I'm here_ , he responded, not bothering to keep the relief from his tone. _We've got problems._ He didn't bother to verbalize, simply dropped the knowledge of the last few hours in Jr.'s mind._

__Damn. Tell Foster the ship's using the forty-fifth civilian exit. And if he's planning on firing on it when it arrives, tell him to be careful where he's aiming. We're right behind it._ Gaignun could sense Jr. straightening up. _And I have an idea.__

__

* * *

The image of the "Federation" battleship had been on the _Lorant's_ forward screen for hours. Aside from maintaining its current speed the combat vessel had remained dormant. If they weren't in hyperspace it would've been the perfect moment to attack.

"I think that ship's a drone," Jr. said after chaos made his seventh attempt to open communications. "That's why you're not getting any response." It was as much to break the silence on the bridge as it was to make the observation. The three of them were too keyed up to do anything but watch the ship in front of them, regardless of how little it was doing at the moment.

chaos nodded. "I think you're right. They probably--wait a moment. It's bringing its weapons online."

Matthews removed the cigarette from his mouth. "Which ones?"

"All of them," chaos answered. "But there's no target established. The weapons are just on."

Jr. shifted position in his seat. "And we're nearing the column exit for the Foundation. I don't like this." He'd been trying to make mental contact with Gaignun, since he was unsure what the ship ahead of them would do if it detected a long-range comm signal. _Come on, come on_ , he urged the link between them. Seconds stretched into their own eternities until a sudden jolt of reconnection made his head jerk upward sharply.

_Gaignun!_

_I'm here_ , Jr. heard his brother's voice. _We've got problems._ Within the span of a few seconds everything that had happened on the Foundation during his brief absence filled his mind . . . almost everything. Jr. sensed Gaignun holding something back. He turned half about in his seat to look at the others. "I'm in contact with Gaignun, and things are looking pretty grim. That ship ahead of us is gonna ram the Foundation."

Matthews swore. "So what's the plan? Shoot that thing down as soon's we gate out?"

chaos advised them the battleship was picking up speed.

"That's about the size of it," Jr. said, bringing the beam cannon back online. "As soon's we're in normal space bring us hard to port."

Once again time seemed to warp and stretch and it was a relief to feel the touch of Gaignun's mind against his own. Jr. watched as a tear seemed to form in the column walls, saw the battleship slip through, then braced himself when he felt the lurch as they made their own exit.

Inside himself he felt the dragon raise its head a second time. This time it opened its jaws wide, a tongue of flame extending past razor fangs. _Don't let it loose, don't let it free_ , Jr. pleaded with himself. He felt the contact with the cannon, and transferred the Red Dragon's power over to it.

The column walls vanished and the _Lorant_ slewed to port like Jr. had requested. He saw the battleship, its midsection now exposed. The point where the two mismatched ship-halves met would be the weak point, he knew. And if its builders had any sense that was where the shields would be strongest. If could get through them, all he needed was one shot--just one good shot. . . .

For a moment he saw the same event through Gaignun's eyes. On the screen in one of the security stations on the Foundation he saw the battleship exit hyperspace, speeding towards the colony. He knew that energy barriers had been erected, but they wouldn't be enough. He saw the _Lorant_ appear seconds after, the little ship maneuvering into a firing position. 

This time Jr. didn't need chaos to tell him when to fire. He let off two shots in rapid succession. As before, the energy spheres were far more brilliant than they would've been under normal circumstances. The first hit tore a gaping hole in the battleship's shields. The second was enough to split it in two.

His ears rang and his vision swam. As if from a great distance he heard chaos and Matthews cheering, sensed the exultant whooping in the security station. He was satisfied with how things had gone. He'd done a good job, he thought.

Then Jr. felt his limbs turn to jelly and he toppled out of his seat with a thud.


	32. Sisters

**Chapter 32: Sisters**

Mary'd never realized it was possible for a headache to hurt this badly. She tried turning her head and cried in misery. Better to keep still. She tried opening her eyes instead. That hurt too, but not as much. Her eyes burned, but at least the light in the hospital room was dim. A voice nearby said "She's awake" to someone else. A face leaned into view. It took a moment to recognize it as belonging to the nurse Andy Gennings.

"How are you feeling?" he said.

"My head hurts." It was somehow embarrassing to admit as much, though she'd be at a loss to explain why.

Aggy shrugged ruefully. "Sorry about that. We had to wait until you were conscious before we could give you anything." With that he pressed a small canister behind her ear. There was a slight sharp pressure, then she sighed in relief when the ache in her head started to subside.

For a while they both said nothing as Mary tried to piece together what had happened. She and Shelley'd been helping the hospital staff, then they'd gone to collect food trays and--what came next? That was right, she thought a moment later, there'd been a man in a bathroom. He'd hit her and that was the last she knew until now. ". . . Shelley?" she said finally, and dreaded what the answer might be.

"She's here too," Aggy answered. He helped her sit up for a moment so she could see her sister on the other bed. There was a small device beneath Shelley's head, an interlink monitor. It chirped periodically. "Someone forced her into an interlink." At Mary's panicked expression he continued. "It's all right. Apparently someone named Canaan's made contact with her."

Mary processed that. "So she's stuck?"

"Pretty much," Aggy admitted. There wasn't much point in trying to pretend otherwise. "From what I understand whoever it was pulled the plug before the session ended." Then: "I'm so sorry."

Mary nodded. It was Aggy who'd sent them on that errand. She didn't blame him, but she wasn't in any condition to blithely absolve him either. There was a small commotion outside as medical staff began showing up outside the room. Mary looked over at Shelley's bed as they started filing in. If something wasn't done soon it was only a matter of time before her sister's body started shutting down.

"Hook me up to her."

* * *

_Jr.? Jr.!_ Gaignun's voice echoed through Jr.'s mind. It took a few moments for Jr. to focus on the words--and the near panic behind them.

 _I'm fine. I think. Did you see that?_ Jr. grinned lopsidedly at the deckplates, drunk on success and survival. He imagined the illegal battleship snapping in half like a cheap toy.

_I saw_ , Gaignun said, and this time Jr. couldn't miss the stress in his tone. _Maybe wait a while--a long while--before you pull a stunt like that again?_

Jr. tried to nod, though he was currently having some trouble with the concepts of 'up' and 'down.' I don't think I could, at least not right now. He sensed someone vying for Gaignun's attention. _'m okay. You take care of the Foundation._

The touch of Gaignun's mind thinned, but didn't vanish.

chaos helped Jr. back into his seat, holding him in place as the redhead was effectively boneless at that point. Jr. stared blearily at the screen in front of him. "I feel like an AMWS dropped on top of me," he said when chaos asked him if he was all right. But he was smiling when he said it.

"I'm betting that's not going to happen next time I use the _Lorant's_ weapons, is it?" Matthews said pointedly after getting a docking assignment from the Foundation.

"Prob'ly not," Jr. admitted vaguely. It was an effort just to keep the console stable in his vision.

_We caught the person who installed the gas trap on the_ Durandal's _bridge_ , Gaignun said a few minutes later. _One Terry Mitsuda, a mid-level mechanic who signed on with us six months ago--not to mention the sister of Carol Mitsuda, the same ST who made contact with the 'stricken' ship that started this whole mess. And the Federation Police and all related agencies have been informed of Untainted Blood's involvement._

Jr. felt the strength returning to his limbs. He sat upright but clutched the seat with one hand just in case. _Gaignun? What aren't you telling me?_ For saving the Foundation and essentially shutting down a major anti-uberhuman organization Gaignun seemed oddly displeased.

_. . . Mary and Shelley were attacked._

"What do you mean, 'attacked'?" For a moment Jr. forgot that his brother wasn't actually present. He looked from Matthews to chaos. "Bad news from Gaignun," he said by way of explanation.

In a few terse phrases Gaignun told him about the assault at the main hospital, the theft of the GPS data and Canaan's contact with Shelley in the Foundation's UMN datastructure. _Mary's suffered a mild concussion, but the doctors think she'll be fine. She's given us a description of the man who attacked them. She's asking to be hooked in to Shelley's interlink._

Jr. hardly required the link to feel Gaignun's fists balled at his sides, the shame at not being with the sisters when they needed him. His own fingers were clenching. With difficulty he forced himself calm. He had a good idea what Mary was trying to do. _She'll be able to help Shelley._ Jr. put every ounce of confidence he had into the assurance.

_I know._

* * *

Things were starting to settle down in the security station, though Gaignun's own nerves were still frayed. It had been like this in his younger days, when a large-scale training exercise would come to an end but he'd still have trouble coming down from the adrenaline rush. He fought the tremor in his hands.

"Sir."

Gaignun turned to face the ST who'd addressed him.  
"Sir, we found a holographic mask along with several communication devices," she said. "One of them was an old Mercedes data drive. It looks like whoever had them tried to destroy them quickly, then discarded them in a recycling bin in Sector 11." Once Gaignun had acknowledged her report she spun on her heel and headed for one of the consoles.

Damn and damn. Gaignun sank down on a nearby chair. He was glad the Galaxy Species Preservation Act Support Foundation data had been recovered, but he was more concerned about that mask. Holographic masks usually took the form of a hair-thin net. They were often worn by actors fighting the ravages of time, politicians avoiding recognition, and undercover law enforcement personnel. The most advanced versions (like the one in the recently filed report) were typically illegal for all but the lattermost group.

The things weren't comfortable, either. The filaments tended to catch on the rough patches of a person's skin. So if Mary and Shelley's attacker had worn the device, it would've been smarter to keep hold of the thing until it could be completely destroyed, instead of just tossing it in a junk bin.

Gaignun suspected they wouldn't see the man's face on any of Foundation's security cameras. The masks weren't cheap, and almost no one in possession of one would willingly throw it away, so it was probable he had another. It was likely he'd keep a low profile and avoid areas that might require a DNA check. Gaignun's skin crawled at the thought of the man being anywhere near the girls without anyone knowing it. He decided to assign Mary and Shelley a discreet security detail.

* * *

How long have I been like this? Shelley wondered. It came as a mild shock when she realized she'd only been in the interlink for a few hours. It felt like much longer.

She knew, thanks to Canaan, that she and Mary had been found and were being treated. Mary was awake and lucid. The Foundation's attackers had been caught and stopped. It was all good news. She tried to feel happier about it all, but there was a strange lethargy surrounding her emotional responses. _Prolonged immersion in the UMN and related networks can lead to a loss of sense-of-self._ She'd read that a couple of years ago, for school. Now the words drifted across her thoughts like odd birds.

There was something she needed to do. It was getting harder to focus. Easier, then, to just let herself drift. Maybe she should just stay where she was, a mind without a body. No, Shelley thought, her mind increasingly muzzy, she had to get back somehow, to . . . to. . . .

Brief sensation jolted her, a recent memory amplified by her current state: a slim blonde still three weeks shy of becoming a teenager, trembling beside her. Mary. Yes. And Gaignun and Jr. She felt the fog in her mind start to clear. There had to be a way back to her body. She couldn't be stuck here permanently. Please, no.

Shelley thought she should try returning to her original channel, the Foundation's databank. She hadn't been able to shut down the interlink when she'd been there previously, but it was the closest she could think of to being back. Maybe she'd find some solution she'd missed the first time around. She concentrated--and was hit by the mental equivalent of a wave of nausea.

She was effectively trapped where she was. But not alone, she reminded herself. She could still sense Canaan in the channel with her, though he'd gotten quiet. The thought that she wasn't alone calmed her. She would get out. In the meantime she occupied herself by reconstructing memories from each previous week.

She'd gone back to the previous year when she felt a familiar, light touch. _. . . Mary?_

_It's okay. I'm gonna try to get you back out._

Shelley wanted to weep with relief at the perception of her sister's voice. _How did you find me?_

_I got the channel code from Canaan._ Shelley sensed that Mary was trying to avoid going on a tangent regarding the actual route that piece of information had taken. Her younger sister continued, _You're hooked up to a monitor. I'm hooked up to it, too. It's an Astarte 627. Find out everything you can, and think about it._

She understood what Mary meant, and began searching for information on the interlink monitor. It was an older model, but reliable and well-made. The 627 was ten inches across, three inches deep--except where there was a neck depression--and two inches wide. It had two subports, and it would monitor both brain functions and vital information.

Armed with this knowledge she returned her focus to the channel she was in. _Where are we?_ she asked Mary.

_We're in a hospital bed. The head is raised a little. You're on your back. I'm on your right, facing you. I'm pinching your arm_ , Mary added.

Shelley felt like laughing. _All right, here goes._

She thought of the monitor being under her neck, the cramp it would eventually cause. She thought of the device attached to her dataport, and her dataport's attachment to her central nervous system. She envisioned her circulatory and respiratory systems, and the body that surrounded them. She imagined Mary beside her, her sister's knees no doubt drawn up and jabbing into her side. She imagined Mary pinching her.

There was a sudden jolt, much like the one preceding her earlier memory of Mary, but this time far more physical. She thought it might be the bedsheets under her palms. She tried flexing her fingers. _You moved!_ she was gratified to hear Mary say.

From there Shelley tried tensing her limbs. She thought she was succeeding when she felt a sudden sharp pain on what she was certain was her upper right arm. Mary! Never had she been so glad to be pinched. More and more sensation was returning to her. She could feel the bed under her, the cool hospital air around her. Her mouth was dry. She could feel her chest rising and falling with each breath.

Shelley opened her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends the parade of prewritten chapters. Who knows when I'll get around to writing a new chapter.


End file.
